


After August

by ahiddenpath



Category: Digimon, Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2019-10-07 00:38:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahiddenpath/pseuds/ahiddenpath
Summary: "A few days ago, they were the Chosen. Now they were just a bunch of bereft, displaced kids." When the Chosen return to earth, they have difficulty resuming their old lives. The story dips into everyone's perspectives as they struggle to overcome the trauma they faced in the Digital World and their longing for their digimon so they can rally around Taichi once more.





	1. Our Fear

 

**After August**

_Our Fear (Chapter 1 of 10)_

Sora and Yamato walked in silence, moving from Odaiba Kaihin Koen to the apartment complex where Koushiro lived. Although their adventures in the Digital World had spanned months, only a few days had passed on Earth. It seemed impossible, but it was still summer break, and the heat was oppressive. The ambient moisture was so great that passing through it felt almost like swimming.

The sun hung high and lidless in the sky, burning against a pale blue background dotted with sluggish clouds. Despite the weather, children ran along the sidewalks, calling to one another. In the distance, sunbathing bodies lined the strip of sand between the many buildings of Odaiba and Tokyo Bay. The statue of liberty replica stood tall, a dark silhouette in front of the Rainbow Bridge. Sora had lived here for years, but these landmarks were so foreign and strange now. Frowning, she looked down, needing the comfort of Piyomon's sparkling eyes and constant smile.

There was nothing there but cement and her sneakers.

For a moment, Sora felt nothing but bemused shock. Then the pain came, rushing out from her heart, like poison borne in her blood. She and Piyomon had said farewell four days ago, and still, Sora expected her partner to be by her side. Being without her was like the sudden loss of a limb, complete with phantom pains that she couldn't articulate.

Sora swallowed hard, fighting the urge to cry. At night, she usually couldn't help it; sleeping alone was desolate after cuddling with Piyomon for so long. Still, Sora knew that Piyomon wanted her to live well, so she tried to be brave. If she forced enough smiles, maybe they would become authentic.

"Sora," Yamato said, and she looked up, drawn to her name. Sapphire eyes met hers, as multifaceted as an actual gemstone. The shine that lit them on his good days was gone, leaving them complex and stormy.

Yamato tsked, sighed, then looked away. "I keep doing it, too. I've been waiting for Gabumon to say something about how he can smell Tokyo Bay, or how it's too hot. And then…"

The sentence trailed off, and Yamato shoved his hands in his pockets, scowling at the sidewalk. Sora's fake smile wavered, then crumbled. "Then you remember," she whispered. Yamato nodded, but said nothing. Suddenly, the air was heavier and harder to breathe than ever.

Sora wiped her eyes, no longer caring about hiding her tears. "It's good to remember. It's good to think of them." This time, when Yamato offered no response, she joined in the silence.

It was good to remember, but that didn't make it easy.

**xxx**

Sora knocked on the Izumi's front door. Kae, Koushiro's mother, answered. "Ah, Sora-chan, welcome! And… Yamato-kun, right?"

Since Sora and Koushiro were once in a soccer club with Taichi, Kae recognized her, but Yamato was a newer addition to Koushiro's life. From Kae's perspective, her son had only known him for a few days, although in reality-  _Koushiro_ _'s_  reality, at least- they had spent months traveling together. Sora's mind reeled. Keeping track of two worlds with different timelines was enough to drive anyone nuts.

After Yamato confirmed, Kae said, "I'm so glad you visited. It can be hard to tell with Koushiro, but… He seems down, and he's been working so much on his computer. I've asked him to rest, but could you please tell him, too? The message might be stronger coming from more people."

Sora bent, hiding her worried eyes under the guise of removing her shoes. "We'll tell him."

"Thank you. His room is down the hall. I'll make you some snacks."

Yamato twitched, and the sadness building within Sora amplified. Although she couldn't see his face, his tense voice betrayed his feelings. "T-that's okay. You don't need to-"

"It's no trouble," Kae replied, cutting him off. "Please, come visit any time." Perhaps Kae sensed that Yamato was flustered, because she retreated into the cool, quiet apartment, giving them space.

When she was out of sight, Sora whispered, "Izumi-san is nice. She always offers snacks to Koushiro-kun's friends." Yamato's only response was a distracted scowl. Sora wished she knew how to comfort him, but what could she do? Given Yamato's family situation, receiving such kind attention from a friend's mother was a reminder of what he didn't have.

Yamato led the way down the hall, ignoring the tidy living room and hurrying past the kitchen, where Kae was working. He paused before a door bearing a blue sign with Koushiro's name and knocked. "Come in," Koushiro called, so he opened the door.

Although it was a bright summer day, Koushiro's bedroom was dim. Blinds covered the window above his desk, where he worked on his desktop computer with his laptop open at his elbow. A twin bed with a blue comforter was next to the desk, with a bulletin board above the headboard. Book shelves stuffed with massive texts on math, science, and computers lined the opposite wall. A neat stack of papers waited on the empty side of the desk, stationed next to a framed photograph.

Sora's heart skipped a beat. Although the photo was her reason for visiting, she suddenly couldn't bring herself to look at it. Instead, she focused on Koushiro, who still hadn't looked away from his monitor.

Yamato stood over Koushiro and peered at his face. "How long have you been working? You've got bags under your eyes. It's summer break.  _Rest._ "

Koushiro rotated his desk chair until he faced them. "I'm fine. I have your prints." The slightest hint of annoyance colored his voice, and Sora smiled. That tone was usually reserved for Taichi, someone Koushiro was willing to reduce his consummate politeness around, if only a little. It was nice to see him open up more with the others.

Yamato opened his mouth to argue, but Sora reached for the photos, cutting him off. "Thank you for printing them and sending us the files." Her voice sounded normal, but her hands shook as she picked up two copies of the group photograph the Chosen took with the digimon just before returning home.

"It's no trouble," Koushiro said, and Sora smiled when she recognized the phrasing, and even his way of speaking it, from his mother. "Honestly, my motives might be selfish."

Sora handed a copy off to Yamato and tipped her head. "How's that?"

His forehead indented with what she thought of as 'Koushiro's thinking lines.' "It's grounding," he said at last. "Seeing the Chosen in my normal environment after… everything."

Yamato released a breath in a long sigh. "I think I know what you mean. Takeru keeps calling me, normally to ask if I remember this or that happening in the Digital World."

The furrows on Koushiro's brow deepened with concern. "What do you mean? Is he already forgetting things?"

"No, it's… It's hard to describe, but I think he's trying to confirm that everything… actually happened."

Sora's hand rose to her heart, rubbing at its sudden ache. "Oh, Yamato. Do you think he could spend a few days with you? It _is_  summer break."

Yamato stepped back, and in an instant, a wall seemed to form between him and the others. "I'll ask. I don't know if mom will let him."

"Oh," Sora murmured. What else was there to say? Desperate to change the subject, she turned to Koushiro and asked, "How's Eimi-chan?"

Koushiro looked from Yamato to Sora, likely trying and failing to follow the conversation's emotional undercurrents. "Er- It can be hard to tell." He paused, and his glance slid down as his shoulders slumped. "The damage to her hands was heavy, but she's expected to make a full recovery with physical therapy. There will likely be some scarring, however."

Sora wanted to respond, but her head was heavy and foggy. Her heart searched so desperately for the digimon, but all she found was pain, both for herself and her comrades. She wouldn't trade her time as a Chosen for anything, and yet… In her worst moments, with everyone's suffering beating around her, she couldn't help but wonder if the damage was too great to bear.

"Damn it." Yamato rubbed his face with his palms. "Keep an eye on her. Call someone if you're in over your head with her."

Koushiro probably tried his best- that was in his nature- but his smile was stiff. "I usually am. Frankly, I'm concerned about her. She fell apart when she saw the photograph, and Mimi-san did the same when she came for her copy." He blinked up at them, and for the first time, Sora truly saw the fatigue clouding his eyes, which were usually so alert and sharp. Yamato's dull gaze, Koushiro's exhaustion… She couldn't help wondering how her pain manifested, how others could see it on her.

"Mimi-chan has been struggling so much," Sora said, turning her thoughts back to her friends. "She's called me almost every day since then. She's so upfront about how she's feeling, but… I haven't heard much from the others."

Yamato took a seat on Koushiro's bed, frowning at the floor. "It's not an easy thing to talk about."

"That's true," Sora allowed, "but… I don't know. I was thinking… Maybe we should all get together? Kind of like a support group."

A long pause followed, and Sora glanced at the boys, trying to gauge their reaction. Yamato's body language was tense and closed off, with his arms crossed and his eyes directed anywhere but at the others. Koushiro met her gaze, but appeared politely hesitant. "That might be a good idea," he said. "I can't help but worry about Taichi-san. I haven't heard from him since that day. Hikari-san picked up their copies, and when I inquired after the both of them, she seemed… worried."

Yamato's head rose at last. "Yeah? I haven't heard from Taichi, either."

"I asked him if he wanted to pick up his copy today, but he said he already had it," Sora said with a frown. "Other than that, nothing. I assumed that someone would have heard from him."

Yamato tsked. "He shouldn't make us worry. Speaking of, has anyone heard from Jyou?"

"He stopped by for his copy," Koushiro said. "He didn't say much, but I gather that he's been studying."

Yamato slapped his forehead. "Of course. Studying during summer break, after everything that happened…"

"We _do_  still have homework to finish," Sora pointed out. "But hopefully he isn't overdoing it. You shouldn't either, Koushiro-kun. Make sure you get enough sleep."

"What are you working on?" Something in Yamato's tone drew Sora's attention, and she glanced at him. The focus in his eyes slammed her into high alert, and she turned to Koushiro, hoping he could handle whatever Yamato was about to dish. "I don't see what could be pressing enough to lose sleep over right now."

Koushiro's hand twitched towards his digivice, resting on a tray near his bedside on the desk. There was an odd fluttering in her heart. Was Koushiro's work related to the Digital World?

"I enjoy working," Koushiro said at last. "And right now, focusing on something is a welcome distraction."

Yamato's brow rose skeptically. "Hmm. Well, you still need to eat and drink and go outside." Sora wanted to agree, but she felt too heavy to speak. She knew it wasn't fair to pin her hopes of seeing the digimon again on Koushiro, but when she saw him working so feverishly, the thought that he might have a solution materialized on its own.

"That's true," Koushiro allowed. His typical polite expression was restored, masking his thoughts. "Perhaps that group meeting would help. Do either of you have any ideas for arranging it?"

Sora hesitated. Although she suspected that getting together would benefit everyone, the thought of organizing it was oddly daunting. And she couldn't explain her rising anxiety, causing distress signals that made her scan the room for threats. Belatedly, she wondered how long she would associate all forms of discomfort with potential danger.

Yamato slumped forward until his forearms hit his knees. "I don't know… Seeing everyone together without the digimon… Don't you think that would hurt?"

Sora swallowed the wrong way and fought the spastic urge to cough. By the time the fit passed, her eyes were watering. What would it be like to see everyone united without their partners? A few days ago, they were the Chosen. Now they were just a bunch of bereft, displaced kids.

"Perhaps we should ask Taichi-san what he thinks." Gratitude rushed through Sora. How like Koushiro to defer to Taichi, to turn to him for guidance, even now.

_Maybe we are still a team._ "Alright. I'll visit and ask him tomorrow."

Yamato stood, and Sora guessed that he had hit his emotional limit for the day. "Thanks for the picture," he said, hinting at his desire to leave.

"Thank you," Sora echoed. "And remember to rest. Don't make your mom worry."

Koushiro twitched. "Ah- Did she say something?"

Yamato tsked, and Sora couldn't suppress a smile. "Yes. So take it easy."

"…Alright. Would you like me to walk you out?"

Had Koushiro picked up on their intention to leave, or did he want some space, too? "We're fine," Sora replied. "See you later, Koushiro-kun."

They said their goodbyes, but didn't get far before Kae pressed thick slices of watermelon into their hands. They tried to politely decline, but when Sora stepped back into the heat outside, she was grateful for the cool, refreshing treat.

After enjoying the first sweet bite, Sora said, "Would you like to go anywhere else?"

Yamato shook his head. "Nah. I should probably cool off." Sora knew without asking that he wasn't referring to the heat.

"Alright," she replied. "Are you heading back home? Want to walk together?"

He nodded, and they fell into stride together, silent save for the munching.

**xxx**

The bedroom was dark, curtains blocking the summer sun. Taichi lay on the top bunk, staring at the ceiling. He tossed a soccer ball at slow intervals, watching the short rise and fall. He had no idea how long he had been awake; the only indication of passing time was his stomach. It was grumbling, angry growls that seemed so loud in the quiet room. Although the pain of hunger had propelled him forward in search of food in the Digital World, he couldn't bring himself to walk to the kitchen to sate it now.

Besides, the gurgling reminded him of Agumon when he was hungry, which was always.

Taichi grunted and rolled over, as if to move away from that unwanted thought. A clink sounded as he knocked into the framed photograph beside him. Gasping, he shot upright, grabbing the photo.

Agumon grinned at him from the image, surrounded by the Chosen, their partners, and some digimon friends. Taichi swallowed hard. Part of him wanted to place the photo out of sight. Another wanted to print it onto his eyelids, or at least scan it into his brain.

The bedroom door opened, and Taichi lurched into a sitting position, scowling over the edge of his bed. His mother, Yuuko, gave him a smile that quickly soured. "Sora-chan came to visit. Are you still wearing pajamas?"

Taichi shrugged. The cotton tee shirt and shorts that he slept in wouldn't have embarrassed him to start with. And after living with the Chosen for months, being caught in his night clothes wasn't a blip on the awkward radar.

The bridge of Yuuko's nose scrunched as she sniffed. "You should clean your room, or at least air it out. Why are you sitting in the dark?"

"You said Sora's here?" Taichi asked. Yuuko tsked, but stepped back, clearing the doorway. A moment later, Sora appeared, wearing an expression far too similar to his mother's for comfort.

She stepped into the room and pushed the door, not quite shutting it. "It's almost one. Haven't you gotten up yet?"

"I  _am_ up." He scowled, making no move to climb down the ladder. Sora approached the bed, head bent back to see him. Her eyes narrowed as the examination stretched on. Normally, that would have made Taichi nervous. Right now, a blank stare was as much interest as he could muster.

"How are you?" she asked.

Again, Taichi shrugged. "Okay, I guess. You?"

Sora paused and began toying with her hair, a sure sign that she was agitated. Taichi waited, resigned to a conversation that he lacked energy to avoid or engage in.

"It's... been hard," Sora said at last. "But I'm trying to keep my head up."

Taichi had an inexplicable urge to snort. He resisted, but an odd feeling of defiance lingered. He nodded, neither knowing nor caring what a head bob meant in this situation.

Sora crossed her arms. "I saw Yamato and Koushiro-kun the other day. They both said they haven't heard from you since... then."

Taichi fell onto his mattress with a grunt. All at once, memories flooded through the fragile control that kept them dammed. And there the kids were, waving through trolley windows as the Digital World rushed away. There they were, sitting in shocked silence until Jyou began to babble and Mimi and Takeru began to cry.

His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. The bed frame creaked as Sora stepped onto the bottom rung of the ladder. "We're worried," she said as her head popped into view. "Are you okay?"

Taichi turned away and inched back, although there wasn't room to retreat on the top bunk. "I'm fine. It's been a long time since I had a bed and AC and privacy."

Although he wasn't looking, Taichi knew Sora well enough to see her lips thinning into a firm line. "It's been hard on all of us. It's okay to admit that."

His eyes flicked about, as if in search of an escape plan written on his bedroom wall. Instead, they found the framed photo, still clenched in his hand. Taichi tossed it aside, more embarrassed by being caught clinging to it than by being discovered holed up in his room like a hermit.

"Look," Sora sighed. "I haven't seen everyone since then, but after talking to Yamato and Koushiro-kun... It sounds like we could all use some support. I was thinking we could arrange a get-together."

Those churning emotions bubbled over at last, and Taichi jerked upright. "What's the point of meeting up? It's over."

Sora landed on the floor with a thud, causing a mixture of relief over having successfully gotten rid of her and guilt over his bratty behavior. Those thoughts vanished as she threw open the curtains, filling the room with light. There was a sliding sound as she tugged on the balcony doors, pulling them open.

"Wha- Sora, the AC's on," Taichi protested. Sora arched a brow, then marched across the room. The AC unit was mounted on the wall above the long desk he shared with Hikari. Sora grabbed the remote and turned it off.

"The  _point_ is to support each other," she snapped, slamming the remote down. "We're all feeling the same pain. Right now, we're the only ones who can understand that. On the day we returned, you said yourself that we need to reach out."

Taichi's back hit the wall, and he slunk against it, propping himself up. He remembered the quick speech he delivered to the Chosen before they split up to their homes, before the trolley that delivered them mysteriously vanished. But back then, Agumon was so fresh in his mind, burned in his eyes and ears. Just a few days later, Taichi struggled to remember exactly what his partner sounded like.

To see the Chosen without their digimon... Taichi couldn't articulate why, but the thought turned his stomach.

"You're worried about me," Taichi muttered. "I get it. But I'm fine."

"This isn't just about you," Sora replied. "But since we're on the subject... Don't you have soccer practice soon? You were excused during camp, but the soccer club meets over summer break, right?"

"What do you care?! You already quit soccer club!"

Sora's eyes widened. After a heartbeat of anger, Taichi knew he had misstepped. She fixed him with a hard stare, then moved towards the door.

"I know you're hurting. I am, too. I came here to try to help... But I won't let you be a jerk to me."

She pulled the door open, then paused. "Call me if you want to talk about the get-together... and you can be nice about it."

The door clicked shut. Cursing, Taichi fell forward, cradling his face in his hands. Oil spread over his palms, and he recoiled. His skin was slick; had he forgotten to bathe last night?

Groaning, Taichi dragged himself to the ladder and slid down. The outside heat had already sucked up his chilled air, and he meant to reestablish his dim, controlled environment.

The sound of running feet and young, happy voices reached him, floating from another balcony, or perhaps the outdoor walkways connecting the apartments. Taichi paused and squinted into the sunlight, half hoping for a glimpse of playing children, but his eyes were slow to adjust.

Bit by bit, his over-saturated vision cleared. Odaiba stretched out before him, a cluster of apartment mansions dotted with busy streets, stores, and amusements. The Daikanransha slowly turned in the distance, with Tokyo Bay glittering beyond it.

Taichi closed his eyes, shutting out the familiar scenery. A lush, colorful jungle materialized in his mind, brimming with alien flora. The buzzing of insects and the cries of strange birds filled his ears. An odd, raspy voice called his name, giddy with enthusiasm.

Taichi slammed the balcony door, covered it with curtains, turned the AC on, and scrambled back onto his bed. He grabbed the photo and stared at Agumon, blocking out everything else.

Pressure built in his eyes and chest, threatening to explode outward. Taichi sniffled, then rubbed his eyes, willing them to remain dry.

What was the point of meeting with the others? It wouldn't bring them back to the Digital World, not without those mysterious forces pulling them in.

What was the point of returning to this world after everything they had seen and done in the other? Why did everyone expect him to put that behind him and go back to soccer and school?

Without Agumon, what was the point?

At last, those treacherous tears spilled over. Taichi buried his face in his pillow, muting the sound of his crying.

**xxx**

Taichi ran, heart galloping, legs pumping, a frenzied, harrowing chase. Darkness surrounded him, and he didn't know what he was running towards- or from. But familiar footsteps sounded, gaits etched into his memory by repetition, some too strange to be human. Agumon ran beside him, large feet stomping, breathing dotted with occasional snorts.

One by one, colors lit the darkness, revealing the faces of the Chosen. Orange burst forth from his chest in the shape of a sun, and Taichi whooped. Somewhere behind him, Takeru cheered. There was danger, there always was. But his friends and their light surrounded him, warding off the darkness, testifying to their strengths.

Everything would be fine. Somehow, it always was.

"Let's do this!" Taichi cried. The others responded, some with laughter, some with words, some with battle cries. Grinning, Taichi patted Agumon on the back. "Ready, buddy?"

He waited, anticipating the reply of, "Ready, Taichi!" But his feet hit the ground once, twice, three times, and still, nothing. His stride slowed as he squinted, trying to see Agumon, but it was growing darker by the second. Taichi whirled around, turning to his friends just in time to see Yamato's blue light blink out.

"Yamato!" Taichi cried. He pivoted towards his friend, half expecting to crash into him, but no collision came. One by one, the colors faded, sucked into the void. Shaking, Taichi stumbled towards the pink light, reaching out. "H-Hikari?"

The light of her crest was fading; even up close, he could barely see her wide, wet eyes. Without warning, it died. Crying her name, Taichi groped in the dark. His hands passed through the space she had occupied before and found only air.

Taichi turned in a quick circle, frantic for help. The lights that had surrounded him, signaling the presence of his friends, were gone. Only his remained, a feeble shine.

An awful, lancing pain dug into his chest. Taichi cried out and covered his front, trying to shield himself, but there was no attacker. The pain moved in a circle, then another, then in triangles surrounding those circles. Blood seeped through his shirt, wet and hot.

And when his crest was carved out of his body, so too was its light, and the darkness was complete.

**xxx**

Taichi awoke in pain, hands scrambling at his chest. With difficulty, he slid them beneath his shirt, feeling his skin. His heart pounded into his palms with aching force.

There was no blood, no wound. Taichi forced himself to take deep, quiet breaths, wary of waking Hikari.

Their bedroom was dark, but it seemed bright compared to the inky blackness of his dream. The initial panic began to fade, and Taichi rubbed his chest.  _It's fine. It was just a damned dream._ Still, despite his comfortable bed and the reassuring sound of Hikari's breathing from the lower bunk, Taichi couldn't settle down. Against his will, he glanced at the spot near the top of the bed, where Koromon had slept during Vamdemon's siege.

Taichi's teeth interlocked and ground. Moving with care, he crawled across the mattress and climbed down the ladder. He paused by Hikari's bed and found her sleeping, arms upturned at the elbows, hands splayed on either side of her head.

_She's fine, stupid. The others are, too._ Some of his tension eased, but Taichi still longed to contact the Chosen, just to make sure that they were alright. But how would he explain a call in the small hours of the morning?

Shaking his head, Taichi opened the bedroom door and slipped into the hall. Night lights dotted the apartment, but Taichi ignored the lit path to the toilet room and entered the bath. He closed the door, then flicked on the light.

The mirror above the sink reflected his disheveled hair, pinched expression, and sweaty skin. Taichi stared himself down.  _This is stupid. Of course there's nothing wrong._

Still, he lingered by the mirror, then stalled by washing his face. When he caught himself wondering if he should wash it again, he growled an obscenity and lifted his shirt. A tiny part of him expected to see the shape of his crest scarred into skin, a grisly remnant of the light chiseled out of him.

He was unwounded, save for a few healing scrapes from the battle with Piemon. Taichi blinked, half surprised and half self-conscious. Why was he so thrown off by a dream? Shaking his head, he released the shirt and returned to his room. Soon, he was lying in bed again, safe and warm under the covers.

But he lay awake until streaks of dawn peeked through the curtains.

**Author's Note:**  I wrote this story for the Digimon All-Stars Big Bang. I hope you'll enjoy it! Big thanks to all the mods and participants!

Each Chosen has their own chapter, where we see how they're coping and how they try to help Taichi. There is also a chapter for an OC; those of you who aren't interested in OCs can skip this chapter and still follow the story.  _After August_  is about 40-50K words long, and most of it is already written. I'm hoping to post one chapter per week, but I might need extra time here and there.

This story is about the Chosen struggling to reintegrate into their old lives and deal with the trauma they faced in the Digital World. It's inspired by a drama CD, where we learn that Taichi quit his soccer club after his adventures for a few months. That was a huge shock to me, and I've been wanting to explore how Taichi and the others felt in the wake of the Digital World since then. I hope you'll enjoy this tale of hardship and healing. Please review and let me know what you think!


	2. Our Love

****

**After August**

_Our Love (Chapter 2 of 10)_

“Hey, everyone!”  Sora waved as she jogged across the park.  A group of kids was assembled beneath the trees, taking refuge from the harsh sun.  The smell of sunscreen reached her, overpowering the scent of cut grass. 

For the hundredth time, she reminded herself to act normally.  She hadn’t seen these kids for months because of her time in the Digital World, but only a few days had passed for them.  Some were members of the soccer club she, Taichi, and Koushiro belonged to years ago.  Others just enjoyed playing and wanted to have a morning game before the temperature climbed too high.

After a splattering of greetings, a girl from her class handed her a bottle of sunscreen.  Sora applied it and listened to the group’s normal, everyday chatter.  In some ways, it was nice to hear about things like homework and gossip.  But she felt removed from it, almost as if she had been away too long and forgotten bits of her native language.  Although she had missed these kids, Sora was quiet, preoccupied with the sensation of feeling like an outsider.

The last stragglers arrived, and the group spilled onto the grass.  Everyone was itching to play, to release energy that had built from being stuck inside due to the heat.  Soon, they were split into teams and running about, enjoying a friendly, laid-back game.

The knot of tension in Sora’s chest eased as her legs worked, carrying her across the field.  The language of movement was intrinsic, encoded in her body.  Although she had little opportunity to play sports in the Digital World, her reliance on, trust in, and understanding of the body that survived the journey had only increased.  Young voices called around her as she moved, and for a moment, it was like running with the Chosen, but without the fear.

Her hair moved as she ran, winging away from her face.  Her thumping heart, the exertion, the feeling of rushing air cooling her sweat…  It was so familiar now.  Sora glanced up at the sky, half expecting to see Birdramon.  There was a pang deep in her chest, softened by gratitude.

_I_ _’m here because of you._ With a grace she was unaware of possessing, Sora’s leg transitioned from running to kicking, stealing the ball from another kid.  The children around her were panting, slowing, but Sora’s stamina was better than ever.  Shock possessed the goalie’s face as she barreled towards him.  The net flew back, straining to contain a ball that might otherwise have cleared the field.  

A former teammate threw her arm around Sora’s shoulders.  “That was _incredible_!  I’m already wiped; how are you still playing so well?!” 

An odd smile, half tense and half sad, touched Sora’s face.  “I’ve been exercising a lot lately.”

“No kidding!  We could really use you on the soccer team.  Has your mom reconsidered letting you join again?”

Sora glanced around the field, where her friends were preparing for the next play.  This was neither the time nor the place for this discussion, even if she was willing to broach it.  “We’ve been talking it over, and she agreed that I can play a sport with less contact.  I think I might switch to tennis.”

“Tennis…”  The girl’s shoulders drooped.  “Well, you’d be great at it, but that stinks for us.  Still…  I’m glad you can play _something_.”

Sora nodded, then ran to join the others.  She was happy about playing organized sports again, but the fact that she could talk things out and come to compromises with her mother was far more exciting.  Sora turned her face to the ground, hiding a smile.

_Thank you, Piyomon_ _…_  

  **XXX**  

Sora was stretched out on the tatami floor of her bedroom, staring at the family laptop.  It was a bright summer morning, and sunlight poured through her windows, glaring against the screen.  Every once in a while, she changed her angle, rotating so she could see her websites.

Before her trip to the Digital World, Sora had resisted the impulse to browse fashion sites.  Jeans, shorts, and simple shirts were the easiest to move around in.  Dressing up was impractical...  Or at least, that's what she told herself.

But somehow, the draw of pretty clothing didn't seem so embarrassing now.  Any trepidation faded, morphing into excitement as she scrolled through fashion blogs and back issues of magazines available online.

When her bedroom door opened and Sora's mother poked her head in, it didn't occur to her to hide what she was browsing.  Sora smiled and tipped her head in inquiry.

"Hikari-chan is calling," her mother explained.  Sora stood, equal parts curious and concerned. 

"Thank you."  Sora moved to the small table against the wall in the hallway and picked up the phone.  "Moshi moshi.  It's Sora."

Hikari's high, sweet voice floated through the receiver.  "Hello, Sora-san."  An awkward pause followed, broken by static on Hikari's end.  Sora imagined the girl shifting her weight, perhaps searching for words that wouldn't come.

Sora tried to speak warmly, hoping to calm her.  "How are you doing?  It's so good to hear from you."

"Um..."  Hikari trailed off, and Sora smiled sadly.  'How are you' was a difficult question for the Chosen at the moment, but she believed it was an important one.

"I'm... okay."  Sora rubbed at the ache in her chest.  A complex mixture of emotions filled Hikari’s words, some far too heavy for a little girl.

"You can tell me anything," Sora said.  "We can meet up, if that’s easier."

Hikari gained some animation, hinting that Sora had correctly guessed her purpose.  "Ah!  I, um, I wanted to ask...  Would you come visit Onii-chan and me?"

Sora frowned.  How could she explain that she was in the middle of a tiff with Taichi without worrying Hikari?  "We can meet at a cafe or a bakery.  I could get you some ice cream."

"I would like that, but, um...  Well, I'm worried about Onii-chan.  He's… not himself.  He stays inside all the time and just sits in his bed or watches TV."

Sora gripped the edge of the table.  "I want to help.  I really do, but I already tried, and...  Well, to be honest, I'm kind of waiting on an apology from him."

The high-pitched sound Hikari made, a tense sort of hum, set Sora's nerves on edge.  She knew what it was like to struggle with saying something difficult, something vulnerable.

"Sora-san…  Onii-chan quit soccer club."

Sora's rational mind never parsed the question; sick worry overrode it.  "I'm on my way.” 

A few moments later, she stepped out of her apartment and into the relentless heat of August.

**XXX**

Although it was sweltering and she longed to be inside, Sora paused by the Yagami's front door.  It was easy to view Taichi as a laid-back, confident kid, but after years of friendship, Sora knew there was more to him.  Regardless, it wasn’t fair to expect someone to never have fears or weaknesses, to assume that they were unassailable. 

But how could she support him through this when she was struggling with it, herself?

Sora closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  In her mind, she repeated one of the meditation chants that Jyou had taught her.  There was no room for doubt, not now.

She knocked, and Hikari greeted her with a look of hopeful relief that triggered anxiety.  Just how bad were things with Taichi that his sister was so eager for help?

"Thanks for coming, Sora-san."  Hikari retreated into the apartment, clearing the genkan.  Sora removed her shoes, savoring the cool touch of the AC. 

"I'm glad you called."  While she was dreading this conversation with Taichi, Sora wanted to encourage the Chosen to reach out.  How strange that Hikari, the most private among them, was the first to ask for help.  _But then, she's asking for her brother..._

Somehow, Sora summoned a smile, despite her jangling nerves.  "I know I need to talk to Taichi.  But would you like to chat first?"

Hikari paused en route to the living room.  "I'm… okay.  But Onii-chan..."

Sora hesitated.  The pain in Hikari’s eyes belied her words.  Still, she knew from experience that forcing someone to open up would do more harm than good, especially when Hikari was worried about someone else.  "Call me any time if you want to talk.  Excuse me for now."  With that, she walked down the hall and entered Hikari and Taichi's shared bedroom.

As before, Taichi was sprawled on his bed, lying on his stomach and staring at an open manga.  Sora examined him, hovering in the doorway.  He seemed more alert than last time, since he was occupied and dressed in day clothes.  But the energy that usually radiated from him had burnt out, and he hardly seemed like Taichi without it.

"Hey," she murmured, trying not to startle him.  Taichi peeked over the edge of the top bunk and stared.

"Er, hi?"  Despite everything, Sora grinned.  Because of their argument, Taichi was probably as surprised to see her as she was to be here.

And because she _was_ still annoyed, Sora went straight for the heart.  "Hikari-chan called me.  She said she's worried about you and asked for my help."

Taichi grimaced and slammed the manga shut.  He sat up, giving her his attention.  Sora nodded, pleased with the change.

 "I'm fine," he said.  "I'll tell Hikari to stop worrying."

Sora leaned against the bed frame.  "It would be more convincing to _show_ her you're fine."

Taichi tsked and crossed his arms.  "This isn't how I usually spend summer breaks.  I know that.  But I don't know why everyone's being weird about it."

Sora hesitated, unsure of how to respond.  If Taichi was actually willing to listen, then she needed to make her point properly…  But how was she supposed to do that?  "We're all feeling raw right now; that's why we're alert to odd behavior.  We want to help."

Taichi scowled.  "I get it," he said, with great reluctance.  "But...  How is anyone going to help?  No one can teleport us back to... back there."

Sora gripped the wooden barrier that prevented Taichi from rolling out of bed.  "I know," she murmured.  "But we can encourage each other to go back _there_."  She nodded at the cityscape beyond the glass balcony door.

"I don't want to."  Though the words seemed pouty, Taichi spoke them matter-of-factly.  "It's not a big deal if I hang out inside."

Sora stifled the sigh pushing up from her lungs.  "The problem isn't that you're inside, not really.  The problem is that you're cutting yourself off from everyone."

Taichi rubbed his temples, hinting that he was just as frustrated as her.  "Don't take this the wrong way, but you did that in the Digital World.  Why can't I?"

"Taichi!"  Sora paused, so flabbergasted that she was forced to gather herself.  "That was a _problem_!  The fact that I pull away when I'm upset is exactly why I know it's a bad idea."

"Well-"  His lower lip protruded as his forehead furrowed.  Sora waited, knowing that he wanted to argue, but was struggling to find a comeback.  "What are _you_ doing, then?"

"It’s… hard."  Sora smiled, but an odd tingling sensation was building in the back of her eyes.  "I'm trying to do old things, like see friends and play soccer.  And...  I'm trying to do new things, too.  Things I maybe wasn't brave enough to do before."

Taichi stared through the glass for a while, then squared his shoulders.  "Well, I don't want to do that.  What's wrong with me staying here?"

"Taichi..."  Sora ran her fingers through her hair, fighting the urge to tug it.  She was accustomed to stubbornness from Taichi, but the defeatist attitude?  Now that worried her.

Her gaze fell to Hikari's bed as a strange heaviness settled on her shoulders.  "You... weren't there," she murmured at last.

The mattress shifted as Taichi leaned closer.  "Sora?"

_It's okay.  You're fine.  Taichi's here._ "In the cave.  In the Digital World."

Sora and Yamato had discussed the cave since their return to earth, but there hadn't been much time to tell the others about it.  After Sora and Birdramon carried Yamato and Jyou to the battle with Piemon, the rest of their time in the Digital World passed in a terrible rush.  It was likely that she'd have to talk about things she'd rather not discuss now.

Sora closed her eyes and pictured Piyomon beside her, those big eyes overflowing with love and concern.  "The cave...  It pulled Yamato and me in.  It's hard to describe what it was like, but...  Everything was dark and cold.  It felt like my heart was locked in ice, and I couldn't remember any of the good things in my life."

When she opened her eyes, she found a Taichi that she hadn’t seen for days.  That awful pain was still there, clouding and dulling his gaze.  But his focus was rising, joined with concern.  Sora stepped closer to the bed, and Taichi reached over the guardrail, taking hold of her shoulder.

“You okay?”

She drew a deep, shuddering breath.  Suddenly, the air conditioning that she had taken such comfort in reminded her of the icy sting of cold, stale air in that dark world.  “I’m… not sure,” she admitted, acknowledging an awful truth skulking in the corners of her mind.  “I have nightmares, sometimes.  We never found out what that dark world is, or exactly why Yamato and I were pulled into it.  And you weren’t there, but Eimi-chan went through something similar, although she called it an ocean, not a cave.” 

“Yeah, she told me.  Sit.”  Taichi crawled across his bed and grabbed the ladder.  Sora sank onto the lower bunk as he climbed down.  Although her stomach was knotted with stress, she relaxed a little as he sat beside her.

Taichi cleared his throat, unusually awkward.  “How did you end up there?”

 “I don’t know,” Sora sighed.  “That’s a big part of the problem.  Why were the three of us targeted?  I’m only guessing, but I can’t help but think that…”

She paused and worried her lower lip.  She didn’t want to imply that the victims of that strange world were weak, but…  Well, she _had_ felt weak at the time.  “When the dark cave pulled me in…  I was hurting.  I was already scared about fighting Piemon and worried about everyone, and…” 

She waved a hand helplessly.  So many odd things had happened in the Digital World, but most had clear causes, like Devimon creating the hotel mirage.  How could she describe the sensation of being sucked into another place by a force they had never discovered? 

“From what I can tell, Yamato, Eimi-chan, and I all felt depressed when we were pulled in.  We were hurting alone, physically and emotionally separated from the others.  Yamato told me that he even tried to send Gabumon away when he was in the cave.”

Taichi’s eyebrows leaped up.  “ _Yikes._ ”

Sora managed a tiny smile as she recalled the fierce bond between Yamato and Gabumon.  “Right?  I think there’s a connection between everyone who ended up in the dark cave.  It was never you, someone who faces things head on.  It was never Koushiro-kun, who is so measured and logical, or Jyou-senpai, who speaks up when he has a problem.  And Mimi-chan and Takeru-kun are so optimistic, I can’t imagine them ending up in the dark cave.”

“So you’re saying it’s introverts?”  Taichi tipped his head and frowned.  “No, Koushiro’s an introvert, right?”

“Close.  I’m saying that people who bottle things up and try to deal with everything by themselves are vulnerable.  And that’s why I want everyone to support each other now.  That’s why it scares me when you shut us out.”   

Taichi tipped his head back and crossed his arms.  “I get it.  But…  The dark cave or whatever?  That’s part of the Digital World, right?  It can’t hurt anyone here.”

Sora fought to keep her tone clear of frustration.  “I don’t know.  It’s possible that it could find us here, I guess?  Either way, I know now that struggling by myself is a bad idea.  It doesn’t mean I’m strong, or that I’m sparing others.  I can’t always stop myself from brooding, but I want to try.  And maybe I’m overstepping, but I don’t want any of the Chosen to do it, either.”

Taichi’s hands curled into fists against his knees.  With a hard, cracking voice, he said, “But what do you want me to _do_?  No matter what you say, I can’t just…  Act like none of this happened.  Like I’m not missing them.”

The burning in the back of her eyes intensified.  Sora leaned into Taichi, covering his shaking fist with her hand.  “Oh, Taichi…  No one expects you to pretend nothing happened.”

“I have to, though!” Taichi cried.  “Maybe I could get away with talking about digimon, since people saw them when Vamdemon came to Odaiba.  But I’d get chucked in a padded room if I mentioned the Chosen and the Digital World.  Everyone wants me to just, just go outside and, I dunno…  Talk about homework and video games and dumb crap with kids who didn’t go through all of this?  Chase a stupid soccer ball?  Ignore that Agumon-  That Agumon’s not…”

   Sora’s voice caught, beating against her throat like the wings of a caged bird.  She longed to tell him that he wasn’t alone, but she couldn’t free the words.  She embraced him, unsure of whether she was trying to give or receive comfort.

He leaned into her, and slowly, his trembling ceased.  “ _God_ , this sucks,” he whispered.

With care, Sora tested her voice.  “I know.  I bet he’s thinking of you right now.”

Taichi jerked, but didn’t break away from their hug.  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

With his wide eyes and flaring nostrils, Taichi resembled a prey animal amping itself up for a fight.  Sora curled her fingers around his, ignoring their unwilling stiffness.  She knew how much it hurt to be pushed on a painful subject, and she needed him to know that she did it out of love.

“Yes,” she murmured.  “Because your bond is still there, and it always will be.”

His chest lurched in, and his combative front crumbled as quickly as it had formed.  A quiet, muted sob leaked out, and he released her to rub his eyes.  “D-damn it, Sora…!”

She grabbed his shoulder, unconsciously trying to ground them both.  “Being home without the digimon is terrible; it hardly feels like home at all.  But you can adjust to your old life, I know you can.  I’ve seen you do so many incredible things.  You faced Piemon, remember?  You can do anything!”

The tiny, precise muscles in his face strained, lining it with emotion, aging him.  All at once, the tears he had been restraining burst forth, rolling down his skin.  “I had Agumon then!” he choked.  “ _I can_ _’t do it alone!_ ”

Though she feared they wouldn’t sound like human speech, this time, Sora had to speak those words.  “You _aren_ _’t_ alone.  I’m here.  We’re all here.  And the digimon…  They’re waiting for us and hoping that we’re happy.  They’re with us, too.”

Taichi was crying too hard to respond, and suddenly, Sora couldn’t hold back.  As if in sympathy, her tears poured over.  They huddled together for what felt like an age, crying until their bodies ran dry.

When Taichi quieted and looked up at last, his face was red, wet, and sticky.  “Sorry,” he groaned, his voice raspy and weak.

Sora shook her head.  Her core ached from supporting her sobs, and her head was stuffy and fuzzy, as if she had a cold.  Everything was hot and tender, and yet…  In a way, she felt a little better than she did before she came.

“We tried not to cry when we left for the digimon’s sake, but now…  It’s good to remember.  I think it’s good to miss them, and even to cry.”

Taichi sniffled, grimaced, and wiped his nose with his arm.  Sora swallowed the urge to tell him to get a tissue.  “Crying sucks.”

“It’s hard.”  After the catharsis of crying, Sora’s intrinsic urge to hide her pain rose again, as if to protect her from another lapse.  With great effort, she resisted the need to appear calm and allowed her remaining tears to leak free.  “Don’t you feel a little better, though?  Expressing the pain helps up accept it.  It just festers if you bottle it up.”

Taichi scrubbed his face with the bottom of his shirt.  When he finished, his hair was more disheveled and crazy than ever.  Sora grinned, and the corner of his mouth nudged up.  Still, his eyes remained heavy and bloodshot.

“Okay,” he sighed.  “I’ll try not to get touchy about missing them.”  He looked away and tried to finger comb his disastrous hair.  “Sorry about the other day.  I was a jerk.”

“You were,” Sora agreed, and she grinned at his rough snort of laughter.  “But it’s okay.”

After a pause, Taichi flopped onto his back, staring at the underside of his bed.  “I don’t know what to do, though.  It’s like…  I’m not ready for my old life yet.  Like I still have a foot in the Digital World.”

“Hmm…”  Vaguely, Sora understood.  Immediately following their return, there was occasional disorientation, a sense that the Digital World would materialize around her again.  But while she was grateful to have been Chosen, and to have visited the other world, what mattered was seeing Piyomon again.

“When I hear gulls cry, my heart jumps,” she offered, hoping that feeling was close enough to what Taichi was describing.

He produced a weak smile that likely mirrored hers.  “When Mom cooks, I expect Agumon to ask me how much longer it will take every five seconds.” 

“We’ll remember them without hurting so much some day,” Sora replied, hoping out loud.

“Yeah, but…  What do we do now?  How do we go back to our old lives?”

Sora frowned, then smoothed her expression out, trying to hide her worry and confusion.  Taichi kept circling around a question she didn’t fully understand.  “What do you mean?”

His body language closed off, his shoulders tightening, his body turning away from hers.  Sora lay beside him, hoping to keep communication open.  “It’s okay, Taichi.”

With a deep sigh, he rolled back towards her.  “I can’t focus.  After everything that happened, hanging out and soccer and goofing off…  It just seems… stupid.  Like, why bother?”

Sora didn’t know any technical terms for what Taichi was saying, but alarm bells were clanging in her brain, creating a sense of harried urgency.  “Is that why you quit soccer club?”

Taichi blinked, then scowled.  “Hikari told you.”

Sora nodded, hoping she didn’t look as manic as she suddenly felt.  “When she said that, I ran straight here, even though I was mad at you.”

Taichi watched her with an indecipherable look.  Sora took deep breaths, trying to calm down.  “I guess quitting soccer _does_ sound crazy,” he allowed.  “It’s just…  We saw so much.  We _did_ so much, and we all changed…  We should be better, stronger.  But now that it’s over, now that we’re here…”

Taichi paused, groaned, and scratched his head with both hands, as if he were trying to shake the right words out.  “Do you know those block toys where the shapes go into the matching holes?  I feel like my block used to fit, but now it’s too big.  I’m glad we saved both worlds, but I can’t help wondering…  What was the point?  And what do I do now?”

She knew she was supposed to respond, but Sora was too overwhelmed.  Concern was her top priority, but fear followed, and even a little anger.  Swallowing all of it, she whispered, “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know you felt this way.”

He lowered his hands and met her eyes, looking strangely vulnerable.  Defeated, even.  “Do you not?”

Although she wanted to make him feel better, Sora couldn’t lie.  “Well… no.  I miss Piyomon, but I keep thinking about how grateful I am to her.  It’s easier to talk to my mom now, and I learned so much about myself.”

Taichi’s stare was bovine, exhausted, unnervingly blank.  After a long pause, he shook his head.  “I _thought_ I learned stuff,” he muttered.  “On the trolley, I would have said something like that.  But now, I just…  Don’t know.”

Seeing one of her oldest friends like this was too much.  Pain exploded in the back of her eyes as her spent tear ducts fought to eke more liquid.  “It’s okay.  It’s going to be okay.  I think the point is that we’re still here, and so are Agumon and the others.  We could never meet again if we hadn’t gone through everything and saved both worlds.  And really, just meeting our digimon is more than enough for me.  Do you need a point beyond that?”

This time, when his eyes flared open, they held no hints of aggression.  He lifted a shaking hand to his forehead, staring at nothing.  “Y-you’re right.”

He seemed so stricken that Sora grabbed him, as if he might vanish or collapse if left alone.  Her stomach turned when she recalled watching him disappear into Etemon’s dark network, and the Chosen drifting apart without him…  Starting with her.

Taichi’s voice pulled her back to the present, and she resisted the urge to shake those memories out of her head.  “You’re really strong, Sora.  Stronger than you know.”

Sora smiled, but it felt weak and watery.  “Oh, Taichi.  You’re strong, too.  Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

He nodded, but offered no response.  After a long interval, Sora asked, “Do you want to talk about it some more?”

Taichi shrugged.  “I don’t know what else to say.”

Although his reddened eyelids and lethargic body language announced his exhaustion, he did seem calmer than before, and maybe a little more focused.  She wanted to probe further, to make sure that he was alright, but then…  It wasn’t as if their emotional wounds could heal in a day.  If Taichi said that he was done for now, then she had to respect that.  “Do you want to play video games?”

“Nah.”

“…Do you want to talk about Agumon and Piyomon?”

After a pause, Taichi hauled himself into a sitting position and offered her a faint grin.  Sora smiled back, and that grin grew, until it almost looked like the ones she remembered.  “Did I ever tell you about the time Agumon set my clothes on fire?”

“What!”  Sora leaned closer, eager to her stories about the digimon she so sorely missed.

**XXX**

Some time later, Sora said goodbye to Taichi and left his apartment.  She and Yamato also lived in Odaiba Kaihin Koen, so her walk was not a long one.  Despite the heat, she lingered outside, trying to sort out her knotted emotions before returning home.

All this time, Sora had assumed that the Chosen were going through similar pain: struggling to process the dangers they had faced, missing their beloved partners, and fighting to believe that they would meet again.  Taichi’s sense of disorientation and loss of purpose were frightening surprises.

Sora fretted with her hair while she walked, and her hands came away wet with sweat.  Blinking, she realized that wandering the apartment building’s outdoor walkways wasn’t smart in this heat.  She moved towards her apartment, eyes trained on he concrete.

When she left, she told Taichi to call her any time.  Still, she wasn’t convinced that he would.  And if Taichi had struggles that she hadn’t anticipated, then what about the others?

_I_ _’ll have to call them.  I can’t force them to talk, but I can let them know that I’m here._ Sora wanted that get-together more than ever, but she was beginning to sense how difficult it could be to convince her hurting friends to attend.

_I_ _’ll do my best, though.  It’s all I can do.  Right, Piyomon?_

A gull’s cry filled the air, answered by its fellows in a shrill, wild chorus.  Gasping, Sora turned towards Tokyo Bay.  The water gleamed red with the setting sun, glittering like a ruby.  Sora squinted against the glare and saw the silhouettes of birds winging above the bay, held aloft with dreamy ease.

Though it was hot, she lingered by the guardrail, watching their flight.

**Author's Note:**

So! It's my tradition to celebrate my birthday like a hobbit, by giving presents (it's words, in my case!). I hope you enjoyed  _Our Love_!  _Our Knowledge_  will be posted late next week.

Please do leave me a review, I would really appreciate it!


	3. Our Knowledge

****

 

**After August**

_Our Knowledge (Chapter 3 of 10)_

Koushiro sat at his bedroom desk, staring at data he had collected in the Digital World.  The blinds on his window were shut, blocking the harsh summer sunlight.  His brain churned, neurons firing faster than he could consciously follow.  The sensation of his mind alight, freed from distractions and danger, was a high unlike any other he knew.  The Chosen had only returned to earth about two weeks ago, but he was determined to decipher all of the Digital World coding language he had discovered by the end of August.

He was so focused that he didn’t notice his mother entering the room, and he twitched when Kae called him.  The spell of concentration broke with a snap that caused a pang in his brain.  Koushiro rubbed his forehead as he turned his chair to face Kae.

“Yes, Mom?”  Although he wasn’t fond of interruptions, Koushiro couldn’t help smiling.  There was so much to discover and to fear in the Digital World that Koushiro wasn’t often aware of how much he missed his parents.  Now that he was back on earth and the air had cleared between him and his adoptive family, Koushiro had a new appreciation for Kae and Masami.

And it didn’t hurt that she was carrying a tray bearing watermelon slices, crackers, and a glass of oolong tea.  She placed it on the desk, then squinted down at him, likely trying to adjust to the low lighting.

“Koushiro…  Listen.”  The boy fought the urge to inch back.  He recognized Kae’s expression, a mixture of reluctance and worry, and knew what it foretold.  “I’m sure your old routines are comforting, after everything that happened.  But… you’ve hardly left your bedroom since you came back.  We’re worried about you.  If you’re willing to talk about it, I’d like to hear how you’re feeling.”

Koushiro blinked, then glanced towards his screen.  Even at the best of times, he wasn’t interested in or well-equipped for emotional discussions.  His data was much more inviting, but…

His mind transported him back to the trolley during his last hours in the Digital World.  Tentomon stood beside him as he worked, waiting for an opportunity to say goodbye, but unwilling to force that conversation.  Koushiro did his best, but he was never able to articulate how much Tentomon meant to him, nor how grateful he was for his protection and companionship.  Tentomon didn’t press; instead, he accepted him, social clumsiness and all. 

That acceptance was a blessing, and yet…  Koushiro couldn’t let it become an excuse to stop growing.  He wanted to better express his gratitude for Tentomon when they met again, so he couldn’t shy away from this discussion with his mother. 

But though he had conviction, Koushiro wasn’t feeling particularly capable.  His fingers curled around the edge of his chair, an attempt to ground himself.  “I… miss Tentomon.  And, although it was dangerous, I miss the Digital World.  I miss seeing and learning all of those new things.  I miss… feeling…”

His courage floundered, and his eyes fell from his mother’s.  Her hand landed on his shoulder, a soft, supportive touch.  “The other children relied on you.  I saw them crowd around you when that… _thing_ …”

“When I received the prophecy from Gennai-san,” Koushiro supplied.  Vamdemon’s siege on Odaiba had shaken the populace.  Kae understood the situation more than most people, but that was small consolation when her son was in danger.  The pressure on his shoulder grew as her hand squeezed.

“R-right.  But being useful to everyone felt good, didn’t it?  The fighting terrified me, but watching you shine…  I’m so proud of you.  So is your father.”

Color crept across Koushiro’s face.  “T-thank you.  I do miss functioning as part of a team.”

Kae squatted, placing her face level with his.  “And that’s why I think you should go talk to your Chosen friends.  Have you seen any of them other than Eimi-chan and Jyou-kun since then?”

Koushiro hesitated.  For everyone’s sake, he was eager to return to his work, but he couldn’t lie to Kae, not after his disastrous attempt to hide Tentomon from her.  “No, I haven’t.” 

Eimi and Jyou lived in the same apartment mansion as the Izumis.  Eimi visited often, and Jyou had popped in to check on him and ask nagging questions about his sleep schedule and diet.  Koushiro had only contacted the others via email.

Kae’s brow crinkled, causing a pinch of guilt.  Gently, she tipped his face towards hers.  “It’s hard to see in the dark, but…  Are there shadows under your eyes?  Are you getting enough sleep?”

Koushiro tried not to react, but he felt his body’s betrayal in the form of a tiny twitch.  “I’m not tired,” he replied, which was true enough.  Focus and the thrill of discovery could propel him through an almost endless loop of ‘I’ll work for just one more hour,’ especially when his goal was so important.

“Koushiro…  Won’t you please rest?  Take a break for the rest of the day.  You could visit Eimi-chan.  Or how about Taichi-kun?”

Koushiro tipped his head.  Eimi was at physical therapy, and he wasn’t sure what he would discuss with the rest of the Chosen when he had no new data or theories to share.  Furthermore, the project he had been engrossed in since his return was too important to delay.

But then… did it make sense to work on behalf of his friends while cutting social contact?  _I can offer more to them through my work than my company, though_ _…_

An image of Tentomon flashed through his mind, and Koushiro swallowed hard.  If he allowed those old habits and thoughts to continue, how would he grow into someone who could make his feelings understood?  If he ignored his mother’s feelings, what did that say about him as a son?  And what kind of friend assumed that his friends wanted him around just for tech support?

“Alright,” he said, ignoring the waver in his voice.  “I’ll visit Taichi-san and Hikari-san.”  Kae’s pleased smile wiped away his hesitance, and he mirrored it, happy to have given comfort instead of worry.

“That’s great.  Eat your snacks first, okay?”  She left his bedroom, and Koushiro turned back to his computer.

He closed his programs, reverting his laptop’s display to the desktop.  The photo from the Digital World was his wallpaper, and he stared at everyone, nibbling on a slice of watermelon.  Sometimes, having that image so close at hand was difficult.  It was hard to look at the digimon that he missed, and he couldn’t help wondering how everyone was doing, especially after that visit from Sora and Yamato.

_I_ _’m sure they’re fine.  They’re all so strong._ His eyes landed on Tentomon, and his next bite was harder to swallow. 

Koushiro pulled his Digital World coding language notes back up, reviewing them as he ate.  Soon, he’d go out and be social.  Until then, he’d learn everything he could about the tools that might lead him back to Tentomon and the others.

**XXX**  

Koushiro walked down the sidewalks of Odaiba with his backpack slung over his shoulders.  He always had a habit of carting computer equipment to unorthodox places, but after the Digital World, that penchant cemented into dogma.  What if an entrance to the Digital World opened on his laptop while he was away from it?  He couldn’t risk losing a chance to see Tentomon.

The August heat was intense, but Koushiro’s mind was caught up in ideas for his program.  He preferred working to walking, but light exertion and a change in scenery could spark new ideas and help him see connections that hadn’t occurred to him at his desk.  He rode a happy current of thought while his legs moved, following the flow of pedestrians.

_Beep beep beep beep._

Koushiro stopped so quickly that the child behind him struck his back.  “P-pardon me,” he gasped.  He slid his backpack off and moved to the edge of the sidewalk.  With shaking hands, he opened the outer flap and felt around inside for his digivice.

The beeping continued, and his heart rate increased, pounding his chest with an almost painful mixture of excitement and urgency.  At last, his fingers closed around his digivice, and he pulled it free, expecting a flashing screen and the high-pitched keening that heralded the opening of a Digital World portal.

That tiny screen was blank, and the device was silent.  Koushiro stared, so frazzled that he considered the Taichi-like tactic of smacking the gadget.  Where was the noise coming from, if not his digivice?

“Would you answer it, already?  The beeping is getting to me.”

Koushiro’s head spun around, turning towards a pair of businessmen sipping iced coffees outside a nearby cafe.  “Sorry,” the other sighed, digging into his pocket.  He pulled out a beeper, scowling down at the screen.  “Gods, I step out for two seconds, and my boss is on my case…”

“Yikes,” his friend replied.  “Better get back, then.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Koushiro closed his backpack, unable to watch them any longer.  He tried and failed to secure the outer flap, then startled when he realized that his vision was blurred.  He wiped his eyes, then shrugged the backpack on.  Had that beeper actually sounded identical to his digivice, or was he too eager to hear what he wanted to hear?  Worse still, was he already forgetting the sounds of the Digital World?

As he continued on his way, Koushiro decided that he simply needed more sleep.  After all, he hadn’t slept normally since returning to earth.  There was too much to do, too much at stake. 

The child of knowledge walked on, unwilling to leave his future in the hands of fate.

**XXX**

Taichi used to love this cartoon.

He was lying across the entire living room sofa, staring at the television with Miko curled up by his feet.  Sometimes, when he was tired of thinking of more serious things in the Digital World, he had fretted over missing the ending of this anime.  He knew his stupid club mates would spoil it long before the VHS tapes were released.

Now here he was, watching the show without missing a single episode, since it released weekly and he hadn’t been gone that long in earth terms.  At first, that seemed like a good thing, something to look forward to.  But now…  Was it his imagination, or was this show kind of… stupid?

He watched a protagonist with spiky hair give his comrades a speech before a battle.  Taichi’s brow rose and rose as the character repeated typical phrases, words that didn’t have much to do with his team and how far they had come. 

Taichi was reaching for the remote when someone knocked on the front door.  He peeked over the edge of the couch, expecting his mother to answer it.  It took him a few seconds to recall that he was home alone.  Feeling a bit awkward, he rose and walked down the hall. 

Koushiro stood on the other side of the door, his round face red and sweaty.  Taichi stepped back, giving him room to enter.  “Uh, hi,” he said, baffled by his friend’s sudden appearance.

Koushiro removed his sneakers and stored them in the genkan’s shoe rack.  “Good afternoon.  I hope you don’t mind my stopping by.”  He scowled, and lines indented his forehead.  “Pardon me.  I should have called you first.”

“Nah,” Taichi said, shrugging.  “You’re good.  I’m the only one here, though.  Mom’s shopping, and Hikari’s at a friend’s apartment.  What’s up?”

A sudden surge of hope overtook him, the first Taichi had felt in days.  Koushiro didn’t often make social calls, which meant-  “Did you find something out?  About the Digital World?!”

Taichi couldn’t quite decipher the look on Koushiro’s face, but he sensed that he had said the wrong thing.  The boy looked away, eyes suddenly trained to the floor.  “I’m afraid not.  I’m visiting because my mother wants me to leave the apartment.  She said I’ve been working too hard.”

A pinch of guilt registered.  Wasn’t he glad to see his friend, even if he didn’t have any news about the Digital World?  Taichi saw Koushiro as far more than a tech expert, and yet, he couldn’t help hoping…

“It’s summer break,” Taichi said at last.  “What are you working on?  I’ve just been bumming around here.”  He gestured towards the television, where a climactic battle was raging.  Koushiro looked at the screen and tipped his head.

“I apologize if I came at a bad time.  Would you like to watch your show?  I remember you mentioning an anime in the Digital World.”

Taichi watched the protagonist rush the villain, screaming a battle cry as he raised his sword.  Somehow, the scene felt like thousands that he had already seen.  “Nah,” he said, turning off the TV.  “D’ya wanna talk in my room?”

“Sure,” Koushiro replied.  “May I have a glass of water?”

“Oh, yeah.  We might have some tea.”  He led Koushiro to the fridge and grabbed a soda.  Koushiro poured himself a glass of oolong, and they carried their drinks to his bedroom.

Taichi plopped onto Hikari’s bed, and Koushiro pulled up a desk chair.  “How have you been, Taichi-san?”

Taichi shrugged, but not out of defensiveness.  He didn’t feel as guarded around Koushiro as he had around Sora.  For one, he felt less embarrassed and hurt by his struggles, thanks to time and Sora’s help.  Plus, Koushiro was less likely to push for an emotional discussion.  “Eh.  It sucks, you know?  But at least we have summer break to…  I dunno, adjust.”

Koushiro stared at him with a mixture of scrutiny and hesitance that Taichi couldn’t explain.  “Er- something wrong?”

Koushiro sighed and fell against the chair’s backrest.  “I suppose I should be forthcoming.  She didn’t say anything directly, but Hikari-san seemed concerned about you when she picked up your copies of the Digital World photograph a few weeks ago.  And Sora-san and Yamato-san said that they haven’t heard from you since then.  Eimi hasn’t mentioned meeting up with you either, which struck me as odd.”

Taichi fought the urge to slap his forehead.  “Do you all gossip about me like old women?” he growled.  He could have added that he had seen Sora since then, but the last thing he wanted was to discuss that visit.

“We’re concerned.”  There was an unusual edge to Koushiro’s voice, a lack of polite softness that caught Taichi’s attention.  He focused and recognized Koushiro’s ‘you-know-better’ expression.  In other circumstances, he might have laughed at Koushiro’s attempt to look serious and strict.

“Look,” Taichi sighed.  “Like I said, it sucks.  I miss Agumon.  It feels really weird to be here after all that time in the Digital World, almost as weird as it felt to be there, at first.  But… I dunno, it will get better.”

A thick, red eyebrow rose.  “Hm.  And how is Hikari-san?”

“Oh, uh.”  Taichi tried not to reveal his sudden surprise and discomfort.  “She… seems alright?  I mean, she hasn’t said much about it, but…  You know, she doesn’t talk much about herself.”  But now that Koushiro mentioned it, shouldn’t he have checked on her?  True, neither of them seemed to want to talk about the Digital World, but…

As he hesitated, Koushiro’s unwavering gaze grew more uncomfortable.  “You haven’t inquired about Eimi’s health,” he pointed out at last.  This time, Taichi couldn’t suppress a reaction.  His shoulders snapped up and in, edging towards his ears.

_Crap._ He swallowed hard, trying not to picture Eimi’s red, swollen palms.  “Er- what did the doctor say about her burns?”

Koushiro winced and gazed at his own hands, likely also visualizing her injuries.  “Her hands are heavily bandaged, and she can’t use them much.  But the doctors say that, with physical therapy, scarring is the only permanent damage.”

Taichi’s shoulders shifted from tense to gooey, slumping so far down that they seemed to be trying to ooze to the floor.  “Hell,” he sighed.  “Physical therapy?  Is she managing okay?”

Koushiro took a long drink from his glass, then placed it on the floor.  “I’m afraid it puts her in a delicate situation.  She’s reliant on her mother for help for some basic, daily self-upkeep, and with her family situation…  Well, she spends a lot of time in my apartment.”

Taichi stared at the floor, almost wishing that he could fall through and end up somewhere else.  Surely the Digital World was a more difficult place to be than earth, and yet…  He knew that some of the Chosen faced tension at home, for various reasons.  Had he given any thought to how they were reintegrating?

He tried to block the answer out before it came, but he knew his mind had been too full of his own sense of loss to worry about anyone else’s problems.  “Thanks for being there for her.”

 “Taichi-san…”  Something in Koushiro’s voice softened.  “Um…  I realize that I might not be equipped to…  I’m not sure how to ask?  But…  I like to think that I came to know you well in the Digital World.  Something’s wrong.  I’d like to help, if I can.”

Strangely, a laugh bubbled up Taichi’s throat.  The soda can popped as his grip tightened, and Taichi placed it on the floor.  “Are you serious?  I a _lways_ end up dumping my problems on you.”

“I’m happy to listen.”  Taichi looked up at last, trying to gauge Koushiro’s mood.  His face was composed, save for the concerned press of his brow.  There was no judgment, no frustration, no expectation, no visible storm forming from his own feelings.  Taichi appreciated that his friends were concerned for him, and he was grateful for Sora’s visit.  But somehow, Koushiro…  He was just so easy to talk to.

Taichi rested his elbows on his thighs, desperate to support a body that felt so heavy.  “I…  God.  I wanna say that, you know.  We’re back home!  We have food and AC and beds and video games and our families.  It should be great, right?  And yeah, of course we miss…  We miss them, but…  I should be able to deal, right?”

Koushiro’s lips parted, but he offered no comment.  Groaning, Taichi rubbed his forehead, trying to push away the pain building in his temple.  “Man, when I was in the Digital World, especially in the beginning?  All I wanted was to go home.  And even towards the end, I would think, ‘this will be over soon, and Hikari and all of us will be safe.’  And we did it, and here we are, and now…”

His voice wavered, and Taichi waited for a sting of shame that never came.  Koushiro merely nodded; either he hadn’t noticed the signs of Taichi’s emotions slipping beyond control, or he simply wasn’t judging.  Comforted, Taichi continued, “All I can think about is Agumon.  Is he okay?  Is he too lonely?  Are the others with him?”

“We’re all thinking of them, Taichi-san.  There’s no way we couldn’t.”

Somehow, Koushiro’s rational kindness was suddenly irritating.  “I know!” Taichi cried.  “I _know_ that but-  Are the others having this much trouble?  You all make it sound like you’re…  You know, getting out, doing stuff.  I can’t…  I just don’t…  I don’t want to go out there.  It’s like I can’t…  See the point?  Or I’m not up to it?  I dunno…”

Koushiro’s calm gaze finally shifted to troubled.  “Please don’t assume that you’re handling things worse than anyone else.  There’s a reason my mother asked me to leave our apartment.  We’re all struggling in our own way.  The important thing, I think, is to keep moving forward, and you excel at forward momentum.  I’m sure that, in time, you’ll fall back into your stride.”

“That’s the thing.  I don’t feel like I did before, either in the Digital World or before that.  I feel-  I feel-”  He came to an abrupt stop.  Taichi knew that Koushiro thought highly of him, maybe even looked up to him.  He was suddenly reluctant to tarnish that image, leaving him faltering.

“I’m no expert,” Koushiro said, breaking the silence.  “But after such a huge change, it’s likely normal to feel lost.  That’s… probably why I’ve been working so hard.  It’s familiar.  It provides a sense of forward momentum, even… if it _is_ just a sense.”

Taichi blinked, then swallowed a curse.  Koushiro seemed so calm, so capable and independent.  But he had gone through just as much as Taichi in the Digital World, and he was a year younger, too.  It was crass to assume that he was fine because he was composed and mature.  “I’m an idiot,” Taichi sighed.  “I didn’t even ask how you’re doing.  Sorry, Koushiro.”

Koushiro was silent for a long interval, and Taichi wondered if he was sorting through emotions that weren’t quite reaching his face.  “There’s not much to tell,” he replied at last.  “In many ways, I’m happy to be home.  I can’t say I miss the danger or the exposure to the elements we faced.  Odaiba’s reliable power sources and strong internet signals are bonuses.” 

Taichi managed a weak laugh.  “Was that a joke?  Are you trying to cheer me up?”

Smiling, Koushiro asked, “Is it working?  Regardless, as much as I appreciate being home, I…  The separation from Tentomon, the loss of purpose among the Chosen, the lack of daily opportunities for discoveries…  The Digital World is incredibly important to me.  I can’t help wanting to return.”  He frowned and scratched the back of his head.  “Which is all natural, I should think, except that…  I’m afraid it’s veering towards obsession.”

“Obsession?  Wait-  So whatever you’re working on _is_ related to the Digital World?”

That familiar spark of excitement lit Koushiro’s eyes.  Taichi leaned closer, expecting vital information to follow.  After all, amazing things happened when the child of knowledge was primed. 

But Koushiro edged back, stepping away from that place of joyous enthusiasm.  “I wasn’t planning on telling anyone.  Eimi guessed, but I asked her to keep it quiet.  I’m not sure if I can actually accomplish this, so getting everyone’s hopes up…  I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

And suddenly, Taichi was on his feet.  He stood over Koushiro, grabbing his shoulders.  “Koushiro, you _never_ disappoint.  You can figure out _anything_.  You always have.”  An anxious elation buzzed down his nerves, a weird combination of hope and distress.  What if Koushiro was doing what he thought he was doing?  What if he _wasn_ _’t_?

Those dark eyes widened, then glanced away.  “Taichi-san…  Have I ever thanked you for this?”

“Huh?”  Taichi fought the urge to shake the smaller boy.  Couldn’t whatever this was wait?  “For what?”

“For your confidence in me.  Without it, I…  I don’t know if I could have faced the challenges the Digital World presented.  And I doubt if I would have dared take on the task I’m attempting now.”

With a deep breath, Taichi forced down his building impatience.  “Don’t thank me.  We wouldn’t have survived ten minutes without you.”

“ _Me?_ ” Koushiro echoed, sounding as flabbergasted as Taichi felt.  “Taichi-san, we fell apart as soon as you were forced to leave our group.  If any of us were essential-”

Taichi waved a hand.  “Stop.  We’re a team; everyone was needed.  The point is, you’re amazing, and I wanna know what you’re working on.”

Faint color appeared on Koushiro’s face.  “Er-  T-thank you.  But please, I’m so far from completing this goal.  The task is monumental, I don’t want to raise anyone’s hopes-”

“Koushiro,” Taichi growled.  “You’re _killing me_.”

Those thin shoulders squared beneath his hands.  And suddenly, the tech expert that had guided them through the Digital World stared up at him, all confidence and determination.  “I’m working on a gate to the Digital World.”

His knees buckled, and Koushiro was squished into the chair as Taichi dropped his weight on him.  “T-Taichi-san, you’re heavy-”

“Are, are you serious?” Taichi wheezed.  “ _You can do that?!_ ”

“I’m not sure,” Koushiro admitted.  “In the past, we were often…  Taken into the Digital World by means beyond our control.  The tidal wave at the campsite, the rainbow path…  You said you were simply pulled into the sky, correct?”

Taichi nodded, chin jerking like a bobble head.  “Y-yeah.  But the gate in Vamdemon’s castle…”

“Exactly.  There’s at least one formal entrance between the worlds.  Since the Digital World is made of data, and since you told me that you once saw a digitama materialize through a computer screen years ago, it stands to reason that I can code a gate.  I collected bits of Digital World coding language during our journeys.  I’ve been trying to decipher more of it since our return.”

“K-koushiro.”  Taichi felt his eyes burning, could see the buildup of liquid.  He didn’t want to cry in front of Koushiro, but what could he do?  “You’re really serious?”

Koushiro’s mouth twisted into an uncomfortable squiggle.  “I’m serious about the attempt, but I can’t promise results.  That’s why I don’t want to tell the others yet.”

A tear leaked out of his eye as Taichi rubbed his forehead.  It felt like his thoughts and feelings were trying to pop out of his skull, too loud and powerful to be contained.  “O-kay,” he stuttered, sounding dazed.  “I won’t say anything.  But, Koushiro- you can do this.  I _know_ you can.”

“T-thank you.  Given the coding language I’ve deciphered thus far and the evidence, I do think this is possible.  However…  Please, don’t expect results soon.  It will take weeks, maybe months, just to assemble a rudimentary gate, one that can theoretically pass messages between worlds.  It could take years before digimon or people can travel through it.  My hope is that I’ll be able to contact Gennai-san through my efforts, and he can assist me.”

“Hasn’t he emailed you in the past?  While you were in our world, I mean.”

“Yes, but…  It seems that conditions beyond my current control have to be right, and that they aren’t now.  Perhaps now that our worlds are cut off from one another again, all contact is lost?”  Koushiro ran his fingers through his mop of hair, looking frustrated.  “Just one message to Gennai-san could prove instrumental!”

Taichi’s eyes pinched shut.  He fought for control, sensing that something needed to be said.  The Chosen relied so heavily on Koushiro, Taichi most of all.  But though he had skills that the others lacked, and though he was working for himself as well as the group, Taichi couldn’t allow Koushiro to carry everyone’s hopes on his shoulders.  He knew that pressure firsthand, and it could be crushing. 

Taichi forced a grin as he eased back from Koushiro.  “Hey, listen.  Don’t you dare beat yourself up; you’ve done so much for us.  Take care of yourself, and don’t push too hard.  I know you’ll find the solution.”    

Koushiro’s mouth popped open, and Taichi fought the urge to tap his chin up, shutting it again.  He waited while Koushiro processed his words, looking overwhelmed and a little embarrassed.  “A-alright,” he murmured.  “But you need to take care, too.  Please try to feel better, Taichi-san.  I realize you can’t manufacture emotional wellness, but…  We’re worried.”

Taichi grinned.  “Yeah, yeah.  I’ll make you a deal: I’ll get out there if you will, too.”  He jerked his finger over his shoulder, indicating the Odaiba skyline beyond his balcony door.  “Obviously, I want that Digital World gate, but…  You come first.  You have to take care of yourself.  Promise me you’ll get enough sleep.”

“Alright.  If you’ll excuse me, Eimi will be out of physical therapy soon.  I promised my mother that I’d get ice cream with her.”

Taichi rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.  “Is she still arranging play dates for you?  What are you, five?”

“Taichi-san,” Koushiro sighed.  “My mother is worried about her.  And, as I said, she’s been encouraging me to leave my bedroom and spend time away from my work.”

Taichi patted him on the back.  “I know.  I was teasing.  Say hi to Eimi for me, alright?”

“I will.  You can call her yourself, though.”

“Eh.”  Taichi shrugged.  “She’d rather hear from you.”

“Hm.”  Koushiro’s brow rose, granting him an unimpressed air.  “Perhaps _you_ _’re_ the one who needs an arranged play date.”

Taichi couldn’t help it; a barking laugh popped free, and he grabbed the door frame for support.  “Listen to you!” he gasped.  “If that’s how you’re gonna be, get out of here!”

“Gladly, if you’d kindly allow me.” 

They stared at one another, and Taichi wondered if his grin looked as stupid as Koushiro’s.  His friend said goodbye and headed for the genkan.  Although he didn’t want to prolong a farewell that was already ridiculous, Taichi had an urge to follow him outside.  It was hot as hell, but ice cream with Eimi and this little snot didn’t sound half bad.

“Are you still standing there?” Koushiro’s voice called, echoing down the hall.  “You’re welcome to join us.”

Taichi’s arm slid down the door frame, and he nearly toppled.  He hesitated, torn between the desire to go and the familiar heaviness that kept him contained in his bedroom. 

_You know you can_ _’t stay in here forever.  Summer break is almost over.  Maybe you can think of this as a trial run, or something._

“Fine,” Taichi said, jogging down the hall.  “But if anyone says ‘play date’ again, I’m out.”

Koushiro’s laughing face came into view as he approached the genkan.  Taichi tsked and pushed him, clearing a path to his sneakers.  When Koushiro’s laughter increased in volume, Taichi muttered, “I should make you pay, since you invited me.”   

Koushiro’s amusement came to an abrupt end.  “Hm.  Perhaps I should inform Eimi that you forgot about her injuries.”

Taichi grinned and grabbed his sneakers.  “You are the _worst_.”

He followed Koushiro outside, renewed with hope that more than Odaiba waited for them.

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Have I mentioned that I love Koushiro?  Because I do.  Look at this Good Boy, working so hard for everyone…!

_Our Honesty_ is next!  Please look forward to it, and remember to leave me a review.  Thank you so much!


	4. Our Honesty

****

**After August**

_Our Honesty (Chapter 4 of 10)_

Jyou sat at his desk, surrounded by summer homework, school texts, and supplemental books recommended by his older brothers.  He twirled a pencil between his fingers, trying to remember how to do these math problems.

_This is ridiculous!  I was only gone for a few days, but it_ _’s been months for me.  I don’t remember these equations!  I should have been thinking about math while I was running for my life._

His dry, unfocused eyes trailed across his room.  It contained a bed, a bookcase, an orderly desk, and some plants that were said to bolster focus.  The only decorations were posters of cars, a few model cars that he had assembled himself, and a photograph in a frame by the digital clock on his desk.

His gaze was inexorably drawn to the picture.  The Chosen, their partners, and some digimon friends smiled at him, and he reflexively smiled back.  _I miss Gomamon, but maybe it_ _’s alright to have some time apart.  I have to study, and there’s no way he’d sit quietly while I work._

His smile widened as he imagined Gomamon calling his name while rolling across the floor.  _Jyooooooooou, I_ _’m booooooored.  Jyooooooou!  Jyou, I’m hungry.  This is boring, Jyou.  Feed me!  Entertain me!  Jyooooooou!_

Jyou placed his pencil on the desk and stretched, working through the routine he performed every hour, on the hour.  _Honestly, the digimon are like little kids.  It would be hard to take care of them all the time._ He nodded as he rolled his wrists out, in agreement with himself.

So there was no need to miss Gomamon so much, to wonder how he was doing.  Was he getting enough to eat?  Was he lonely or bored?  Jyou’s foot began to tap the floor.  Gomamon thrived on companionship; what if the digimon didn’t stick together?  What if Gomamon missed him too much?

Jyou slapped his cheeks hard enough to sting.  _Get it together!  Gomamon is tough!  He_ _’s fine._

Without willing it, Jyou thought of all the times their digimon partners were injured.  Digimon didn’t have first aid supplies, not like the ones Jyou carried.  Of course, even with his kit, disinfecting and wrapping wounds was usually the most he could do.  Still, what if Gomamon took a tumble, and he wasn’t there to help?

Jyou stared balefully at his homework.  Even from another world, Gomamon was distracting him.  Sighing, he pushed off his desk, sending his rolling chair into the room.  For now, his journey in the Digital World was complete.  It was time to return to his normal life, and yet…

Every day, when he woke, he kept expecting a cold nose to poke under his arm, to feel warm, fishy breath on his face.  Whenever he tripped over nothing or did something awkward, he waited for laughter and commentary that never came.  And instead of worrying about school, his mind painted anxious pictures of Gomamon, lonely, hungry, and sad, or worse: sick or injured.

Shuddering, Jyou rolled the chair back to his desk.  He’d rather suffer through math he couldn’t remember than dwell on _that_.

_Wherever you are, Gomamon_ _…  Whatever you’re doing…  Please, be well._

**XXX**

Jyou wandered down the library aisles, scanning titles.  In the past, he mostly haunted the sections containing textbooks for school, medical books, and emergency preparedness titles.  He doubted that he had ever wandered into the nature section before, but here he was, wondering if the books were sorted by types of animals.

He was considering asking for help from a librarian when he found a cluster of books on marine biology.  With an odd sense of guilt, Jyou selected a book on seals and sea lions.  He stacked it on top of a thick text, a primer for veterinarians, and carried his haul to the study area.

It was normally difficult to secure a desk with privacy siding, but the study area was deserted during summer break.  Jyou claimed a desk, grateful for the solitude.  Unsure of where to begin, he opened the book on seals and flipped through the pages. 

_Wow.  Gomamon doesn_ _’t look much like these guys…_ The seals were rounder and longer, shaped like fat, whiskery torpedoes.  The sea lions were more similar, since they could support their upper bodies and move more easily on land.  But none of the animals in the book had huge claws or purple markings, and he definitely didn’t see any mohawks.

Jyou scowled, pushed the seal book aside, and opened the veterinary text.  The diagrams overwhelmed him, shoving him out of his depth.  There was so much information: skeletal, muscular, reproductive, nervous, circulatory, digestive, endocrine, exocrine, and lymphatic systems, for all varieties of animals. 

_At least my dad and brothers only have to worry about humans!_ Jyou slumped forward, cupping his head with both hands.  How in the world was he supposed to approach this?

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he swallowed a scream.  Heart pounding, he whirled around and saw his older brother, Shuu, standing over him.  He had joined him on his trip to the library, claiming need of a reference book.  “Easy!” Shuu whispered.  “It’s just me.”

Jyou nodded, rubbing his aching heart.  Shuu pulled the neighboring chair closer, sat, and peered around the privacy barrier.  “Are these… animal books?”

Sighing, Jyou surrendered the veterinary book.  Shuu’s dark eyes, identical to Jyou’s, passed over the pages.  “This is beyond us both.”  He snapped the book shut and tipped his head.  “Are you thinking of switching to veterinary school?”

“No, thanks,” Jyou said flatly.  “Just wondering…”

He hesitated, and Shuu leaned closer.  Jyou moved his elbow, hiding the seal book without really knowing why.  Of course, Shuu was taller, and he reached over Jyou’s arm and plucked the book free.  His older brother glanced from one title to the other, and Jyou’s stomach knotted more with each bounce of his eyes.

“You kids and your digimon partners…  You saw a lot of battles, right?”

Jyou nodded reluctantly.  Shuu was the middle Kido brother, closer to Jyou in age and appearance than their older brother, Shin.  Although all three Kido brothers had high work ethic and were serious about school, Jyou found Shuu easier to talk to.  He knew him well enough to guess that he was connecting dots that Jyou wasn’t ready to discuss.

A wry grin touched Shuu’s face.  “Knowing you, you tried to patch them up when they got hurt…  Even if all you had was toilet paper.”

Traces of heat pooled on Jyou’s face.  “It turns out that toilet paper doesn’t help digimon injuries that much.”

“You don’t say.”  Shuu placed the books back on Jyou’s desk.  “Did you find anything that does?”

“Not… really.  I was hoping…  Well, I hope we never end up fighting again, but injuries and illness happen.  When I see Gomamon and the others again, I’d like to be able to…”

Jyou broke off with a frustrated sound.  “I don’t know.  I’m probably kidding myself.  I may know some first aid, but Koushiro could probably help digimon more than I can.  They’re made of data, right?  Not… interconnected groups of complex physical systems, like animals.  If they get sick, maybe you can sort of… delete the virus?  From a computer?”

He shrugged helplessly.  Shuu stroked his chin, staring at the books.  “The information in these books might help…  But it’s not exactly light reading.  Have you even finished your summer homework?  It’s due soon, right?”

Jyou hung his head.  “No.  I…  I spent so much time in the Digital World that I’m having trouble remembering what I learned in school.”

Shuu jerked upright, looking alarmed.  “Wow, I hadn’t thought of that.  Let’s go over it together.  If I remember any of it, I’ll help you.”

Jyou perked up.  His older brothers seemed so much more mature and clever than him.  They seemed so much closer to their shared goal of becoming doctors than Jyou was…  But at least they were always willing to help him.  “Thanks, Shuu-niisan.  I really appreciate it.”

“Least I can do,” Shuu said, laughing.  “You guys saved the world, right?  Both worlds?”

“Haha!”  Grinning, Jyou rubbed the back of his neck.  “That’s what they say.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jyou blinked and nodded, caught off guard by his brother’s sudden seriousness.  “After all that happened, are you still interested in becoming a doctor?”

“Huh?”  Jyou edged back, somewhat alarmed by the topic.  “I, uh, of course.  That’s what all three of us are studying for, right?”

“I know,” Shuu sighed.  “But think about it.  Society always needs doctors, but…  What if digimon keep popping up?  Like you said, they get hurt.  They’ll need help.  And right now, you Chosen know more about digimon than anyone else.”

An image of Gomamon sprawled on the ground, injured and alone, flashed through Jyou’s mind.  He winced and looked away from his brother.  “I’ve been thinking that, too.  But…  Geez, I wish Koushiro were here.  It’s hard to explain, but our worlds are connected?  But separate?  Right now, the two worlds are shut off from one another, and I don’t know when we can go to the Digital World again.  And anyway, before I worry about that, I need to finish my homework, right?”

Shuu eased back.  “That’s true.  But remember…  Your life is yours.  I know we’re all under pressure to become doctors, but you’re in a unique situation to do a lot of good.  And even if you weren’t…  Well, do what you want, not what our parents want.  Okay?”

Jyou jerked back so hard that his glasses slid down his nose.  “Huh?  Shuu-niisan, are you saying that you don’t want to be a doctor?”

Shuu shrugged.  “I’m still a kid, Jyou.  I’m saying that there’s a lot of life ahead of me, and a lot of options out there.  Until I figure things out, I’ll work hard and try to get good grades, so that I can pursue those options.  But don’t think you have to have everything figured out when you’re in grade school.  After all…  You never know when your summer camp is going to detour to another world, right?”

Grinning, Shuu pushed off his knees and stood, wandering back towards the books.  Jyou stared after him, flabbergasted.  How would his parents react if Shuu didn’t become a doctor?  If _he_ didn’t?  Was it possible that he was just blindly following a path set before him?

_No.  I want to be a doctor.  I always have_ _… right?_ Jyou stared at the seal on the cover of the book and started chewing his lower lip. 

_Well, Shuu-niisan is right about one thing: I need good grades._ That much decided, Jyou stood and collected his books.  He’d finish his homework, and then he’d worry about future plans.

But still, he found himself carrying the animal books to the check-out counter.  Browsing through them couldn’t hurt.  Right?

**XXX**

Taichi stared at the digital clock on his desk and sighed.  Jyou had emailed about a week ago, asking to visit after his cram school.  If he knew anything about Jyou, the boy would be punctual, which meant that he’d be here in about… two minutes.

Taichi crossed his arms and leaned back in his desk chair.  What _was_ it with everyone and visiting?  Now that summer break was over and school was back in session, he spent plenty of time outside of the apartment.  True, he hadn’t rejoined the soccer club, but that was no reason to hound him.

“Taichi!  Your friend Jyou-kun is here!”  Taichi grimaced at the sound of his mother’s voice.  Of course he liked Jyou, despite his high stress personality.  But he was beginning to feel like a pity case, and that didn’t sit well.

Sighing, Taichi hauled himself to his feet and walked to his bedroom door.  Jyou waved from the hall and advanced to meet him.  “Hey!  Nice to see you, Taichi.”

“Hey.”  Taichi stood aside, allowing Jyou to pass.  Then he shut his bedroom door, aware of his mother lingering in the apartment’s living area.

Taichi swallowed a laugh when he took a good look at Jyou.  The sweater vest Jyou wore to summer camp was bad enough, but he wore a sweater, a tie, and a blazer now, despite the fact that his school had no uniform.  _Do the other kids pick on your clothes?  Does your mom dress you?_ He ignored those questions and dragged his brain into the here and now. 

Jyou carried a messenger bag that seemed full to bursting.  The boy rubbed his shoulders as he removed it and placed it near Taichi’s desk.  “I always say that carrying this much can’t be good for anyone, but I never know when I’ll need my books or my first aid kit…”

“Uh huh.”  Keeping a straight face took effort, but somehow, Taichi managed.  “What’s up?  How have you been?”

Jyou grabbed Hikari’s free desk chair and sat.  “Fine, I guess.  I had trouble doing my homework when we returned- we were gone for so long that I forgot things- but my brothers and my notes were a big help.  School and cram school help keep my mind off of things, I guess.  How about you?”

Taichi approached the desk with caution and sat.  Had Sora or any of the others told Jyou anything about him?  “Uh…  Well, you know.  It sucks, but…  I still have to go to school and do the stuff I used to do.”

“Of course you do,” Jyou said, scowling.  “That’s why we saved the world; so everyone could go on living their lives.”

Somehow, that seemed like a raw deal compared to being with Agumon in the Digital World, but Taichi didn’t say so.  “I just miss him.”

Jyou’s elbow slid down the desk, and he hissed and grabbed it.  “Augh, funny bone!  Er- yeah.  I know.  And, uh, that’s kind of why I’ve been… making the rounds?”

“What do you mean?”

“Hm…”  Jyou flopped against the chair’s backrest, staring at nothing.  “My father mentioned that soldiers often suffer PTSD after their deployment.  I’m not sure if we qualify as soldiers, but we definitely went through a lot.  I’ve been sort of… checking in on everyone.”

Taichi had an intense urge to walk out of the room before this got all emotional.  “I’m good,” he said through gritted teeth.  “And no offense, but you’re not a shrink.” 

Jyou held his hands out, palm forward.  “Obviously I’m not a doctor or a psychologist, but…  I went through it, too.  I can listen.  Sometimes, even that can help.  So…” 

An awkward smile split that awkward, nerdy face.  Taichi was torn between the desire to mock him and a rush of fondness.  _What a freaking dork._

“So you’ve seen the others?” he asked, hoping to at least delay a difficult discussion. 

Jyou nodded.  “Not everyone.  I started in my building, with Koushiro and Eimi-kun.  I’m hoping to talk to Hikari-kun when she comes home from her club.”

Taichi waited for Jyou to elaborate, but the boy just watched him, waiting for a response.  “Er, how are they?”

“You should visit them if you want to know,” Jyou replied.  “Support is really important right now.  If it helps, I’d say they’re mostly alright.  Koushiro’s working too hard on something or other, and Eimi-kun is subdued and focusing on physical recovery.  But I didn’t notice any major red flags.”

“What would be a red flag?”  Taichi sensed that Jyou wasn’t going to let him point this discussion towards someone else.  But he knew Jyou loved being a source of information, so if he played his cards right, he might be able to avoid scrutiny.

“For PTSD?”  Jyou sat up straighter, smiling despite the heavy subject matter.  “Well!  Things like nightmares related to the stressful incident, intrusive recollections during the day, emotional numbness, and avoiding things, people, and places that remind you of the incident.  Signs of depression are a worry, too.  That would be things like… loss of interest in activities you once enjoyed, feelings of guilt, indifference, or hopelessness, and feeling disconnected from the world.”

Taichi desperately wanted to present an expression of polite interest, but he felt his eyes widening and his pulse quickening.  This whole time, he had assumed that he was bereft and struggling to adjust, but mostly fine.  But as he mentally checked off almost every symptom Jyou listed, he had to admit the possibility that he wasn’t as fine as he had assumed.

_Don_ _’t hedge.  Don’t look uncomfortable.  Damn it!_ Taichi caught himself drumming his fingers against his knees and abruptly stopped.  “Uh-  That sounds serious.  But even if one of us showed symptoms, how could we get help?  The minute we started talking about the Digital World to a therapist, we’d get carted off in a straitjacket.”

Jyou’s eyes went huge behind his glasses, and he looked like a big-eyed bug.  “Oh, geez.  Why didn’t I think of that?”

Taichi shook his head.  “You always think adults can fix stuff, but there’s a lot that they don’t get, you know?  Sometimes it’s up to us.”

“W-well…”  Jyou fiddled with his tie, looking abashed.  “People in Odaiba know about digimon because of Vamdemon’s siege, at least.  There has to be a local psychologist who can confirm that digimon are real.”

“Sure, but accepting that digimon were in our world for a few days is different from accepting that there’s a whole world full of ‘em.”

“Hmm…  You’re right.  I need to talk to my dad about this.”  Despite Taichi’s warning against turning to adults for help, Jyou nodded and straightened, looking reassured.  “Maybe we could say that we need help because we were captured by Vamdemon’s digimon?  Stressful things happened to a lot of people in Odaiba.”

By pure force of will, Taichi reigned in the urge to roll his eyes.  Being captured and locked in Tokyo Big Sight by a bunch of Bakemon was a bad day, sure.  But that wasn’t exactly on par with spending months in the Digital World fighting a series of overpowered, murderous monsters.

Jyou’s brow crinkled.  “This is all theoretical, though.  I’m really just trying to ask how you’re doing.  Were you able to do your summer homework?  Can you focus on school and soccer club?”

Taichi tried to speak, but his throat had constricted, as if to contain the lies he wanted to voice.  He cleared it roughly, suddenly unable to look at the boy sitting beside him.  “It sucks,” he whispered, the greatest volume he could manage.  “I think I’m okay?  I keep telling myself that I am?  But really, I… don’t care about school and soccer anymore.”

He saw Jyou’s jolt of movement in his periphery.  “Uh, wow.  Okay.  Those are red flags, right there.”

Taichi’s hand hit his desk with a thud.  “Shut up about flags!  It’s great that _you_ can go to school and forget about everything that happened, but I can’t, okay!”

In the silence that followed, Taichi’s fingers tensed, bending and sliding along the desktop.  “Don’t be a jerk,” Jyou said at last.  “No one’s forgetting anything.”

Taichi dragged his hand down his face, rubbing clammy skin on clammy skin.  “I didn’t mean-  I’m sorry.”

Wheels whirled as Jyou nudged his chair closer to Taichi’s.  His hand landed on Taichi’s upper back.  “I am, too.  I’m not trying to corner you, Taichi.  I’m here because I know how hard this is.  I _know_ how much it… sucks.”

Taichi felt so heavy, so sluggish.  Usually, his body was a well-primed tool, bursting at the seams with energy that he sometimes struggled to contain.  He hadn’t felt that way in weeks; these days, he was more like a slug that could dry up at any moment.  He oozed forward, anchoring his hands to his knees to support his upper body.  “How are you _doing_ this?  Sora and Koushiro and everyone…”

Jyou sighed.  “I think we all have our own ways of coping.  For me, I try to think about… well, being ready to see Gomamon again, I guess.  What can I do to make our next meeting better?”

Taichi turned to his friend at last.  “What do you mean?  Gomamon’s gonna be happy to see you, no matter what.”

A soft smile creased Jyou’s face.  “Yeah, I know.  But after everything Gomamon has given me, I’d… like to be able to give back, somehow?  I know I’m not Koushiro; I can’t fix things on a computer level.  But I’ve been thinking about digimon in our world.  Will people be afraid of them?  We know our partners are kind, but I couldn’t blame someone who was captured by Vamdemon’s forces for being afraid of digimon.  What if any digimon get hurt?  Can I do anything to help?”

Without knowing it, Taichi sat up a little taller.  All this time, he had struggled so much with the pain of what he had left behind that he couldn’t focus on the present, let alone the future.  “Huh.  That’s…  I hadn’t thought of that.  But what could we do?”

Jyou shrugged.  “Good question.  In a way, we’re in a unique position to help, since we know so much more than most people about digimon and the Digital World.  But we’re still kids.  We have school and obligations, and adults outside of our families aren’t going to take us seriously.  So for now…  I don’t know.  It’s frustrating, but I feel like we have to focus on learning and preparing for the future.  We have to become the best adults we can, people that other adults will listen to, and hopefully trust and respect, at least when it comes to dealing with digimon.  And, even though I miss Gomamon and I don’t really want to study all the time and just… jump back into my old life…  I have to.  I have to try to look forward and prepare.”

     Taichi gaped at Jyou, stunned in a way he couldn’t comprehend, and more than a little humbled.  After a period of false, fumbling starts, he said, “I think you’re more grown up than you give yourself credit for.”

Jyou’s long face looked even longer when his mouth slackened with surprise.  “Oh!  Uh!  Thanks!  But there’s a long way to go.”

Taichi nodded.  He couldn’t help picturing those early days in the Digital World, when the Chosen had no idea what was happening.  Back then, they wandered aimlessly, just trying to live long enough to find help.  Foreign, punishing landscapes always surrounded him, the unknown ahead of him, a pack of frightened, hungry, exhausted children behind him.  Sometimes, the Digital World was exciting, with new friends and amazing things to see.  But most of the time, he smiled for the others and pushed on, just one more step in the desert, throat aching for water.  Just one more step in the snow, feet numb with cold.  Just one more step up the mountain wall, fingers bruised and aching, stomach cramped and howling for food.

Back then, looking ahead wasn’t an option.  They lived in the moment, praying that the next would bring help, always pushing through without it.  Now that he had the luxury of thinking about his next meeting with Agumon and the Digital World, he was more frozen than before.  Why was that?

“I guess there’s always a long way to go,” Taichi murmured.  Suddenly, he had a lot to think about.  Parts of his brain that had been silent or aching sparked with interest, and Taichi lifted a hand to his chin.  What could he do to prepare for a future where digimon might interact more with humans?  A future where he met Agumon again?

“You know, Jyou…  I want to apologize to you.”

“Huh?”  Jyou slid closer, as if he wasn’t sure he had heard properly.

Taichi forced a grin and placed a hand on Jyou’s shoulder.  “I feel like we gave you a hard time in the Digital World, especially in the beginning.  It’s great to have someone who worries about the team and thinks practically.  I’m really glad you’re one of us.  Thanks for checking up on everyone now.”

Jyou’s goofy smile eased some of Taichi’s tension.  “No problem.  I _was_ kind of a mess back then.  That me probably wouldn’t even recognized the person I am now!”

_I wouldn_ _’t go that far._ Taichi forced the smirk off his face and eased back.  “Could we maybe talk about something else?  I think I need a break from all this serious stuff.”

“Oh, sure.  But again, you do need to take those red flags seriously-”

“And reach out if I need help.  I _know_.”  For a moment, Taichi thought Jyou would nag him for joking about something important.  But maybe he _had_ grown, after all; he examined Taichi’s face, accurately judged his mood, and let the topic drop.

“Alright.  Do you need help with your homework, or something?”

“ _Jyou_ ,” Taichi groaned.  “That’s not-  C’mon-  Be cool!”

“Hey,” Jyou complained.  “Your grades are important!”

“I just said I wanted to drop the serious stuff!”

They fell into familiar, friendly bickering, with Jyou’s uptight nature clashing with Taichi’s insouciance.  And somehow, the Digital World and the Chosen didn’t seem quite as far away.

 

**Author** **’s notes:**   I think Taichi’s kind of a… slow thinker?  I don’t mean that he’s dim-witted, just that he really takes a while to process and deal with the big things.  In contrast, Jyou is practical, thinking towards what has to be done and what might come next, although he struggles for balance.  I thought Jyou would be a great person to help pull Taichi’s mind out of the past and towards the future.  Man, I love Jyou!

_Our Hope_ is up next, and it’s by far the longest chapter.  I’ll try to have it up next week, but it could take longer.  It turns into the Takaishida brother show XD  Please look forward to it, and remember to review!


	5. Our Hope

**After August**

_Our Hope (Chapter 5 of 10)_

Takeru crept through a meadow of wildflowers, stifling giggles.  Patamon was hiding beneath a shrub dotted with pink blooms, unaware that his tail poked out.  Takeru inched closer, trying not to make a sound, vibrating with excitement as he entered pouncing range.

At last, Takeru leaped, his pent up energy exploding outward.  “Found you, Patamon!” he cried, scooping his partner into a hug.

Patamon wriggled and squealed.  “Takeru!  Don’t scare me!  I picked such a good spot.  How did you find me?”

_Your butt was showing!_ “I looked a lot of other places first,” was his kind substitution.  “Do you wanna be the seeker next?”

The bat-like wings on Patamon’s head twitched.  “Okay!”  He launched off of Takeru’s shoulder, taking to the sky.

“No peeking!”  Giggling, Patamon covered his eyes and began to count.  Takeru ran, scanning for a hiding place.  The field was stuffed with flowers and the occasional tree, but he had already hid in the best spots.

“Takeru?” Patamon called.  “What comes after twenty-nine?”

“Five!” Takeru shouted.

“Five?  I don’t think that’s right.  Um, where was I?”

Takeru hoped he was far enough away that his laughter went unheard.  He glanced over his shoulder and found that Patamon was a brown speck in the distance.  “You were at five!”

“Oh, okay.  Five, six, seven…”

There was a pond at the far side of the meadow, and Takeru dashed for it, hoping to find a big rock or a log.  The sound of Patamon’s counting faded, drowned by distance, the sound of water, and his panting.  Soon, he saw the glitter of sunlight on water.  Takeru stopped beside the pond and looked frantically about, but all he had to work with was grass and the rocky cliff surrounding the water.

He was beginning to panic when he noticed a dark spot in the rock, an opening in the cliff wall.  It didn’t look big, but neither was he.  Takeru ran around the edge of the pond and picked a path along the rocky wall, determined to reach the crevice.

He was nimble and focused, and soon, Takeru approached the gap.  He ducked his head and entered, laughing at the thought of Patamon’s confused search.  The crevice was dark, so Takeru sat, giving his eyes time to adjust before moving around.

The stone was cool beneath him, a relief from the warm weather.  A cool breeze blew from behind him, which indicated that the crevice opened into a cave.  Takeru considered crawling in further, but thought better of it.  Yamato had instructed him never to wander in caves.  He could trip, or worse, fall through an opening in the floor.

Takeru stretched out and cushioned his head with his arms, knowing that it would take Patamon a while to find him.  His heavy breathing was just starting to normalize when the cool air shifted to cold.  Goosebumps erupted on his skin.  He peered into the dark shaft behind him, inching towards the daylight.

A long, thin arm appeared, the hand blindly groping.  Takeru’s scream echoed around him, bouncing off the narrow channel walls.  He launched to his feet and tried to run, but an iron grip closed around his ankle.  His skin burned on contact with the icy hand.

“No!” Takeru shouted.  “Patamon!  Onii-chan!  _Patamon!_ ”

The halo of light beyond the crevice shrank as he was pulled into the cave.  Takeru clawed at the rocky walls and kicked his assailant, but bruises and cuts were his only reward.  He shrieked for Patamon until he was thrown against a wall and the air was knocked from his lungs.

Takeru collapsed on the ground, struggling to breathe.  A huge, gangly figure bent over him, barely visible in the dark.  Its eyes gleamed red, revealing a dark mask, glistening fangs, and a pair of long horns.  Gulping sounds popped out of Takeru’s mouth, a strange hybrid of labored breathing and horrified gasps. 

It _couldn_ _’t_ be Devimon.  Angemon had already destroyed him!  And yet, here he was, pale lips twisting into a terrible smile.  “P-patamon,” Takeru whimpered.  Tears streamed, blurring the horror before him.

Devimon’s laugh echoed against the cave walls, striking Takeru from every direction.  That deep, cold voice froze him more surely than the chilled air.  “Don’t bother, child.  I already ran into your partner.”

Claws wrapped in bandages spread open inches from Takeru’s face.  A pile of white feathers sat in the palm of Devimon’s hand, splattered with red.  A horrible sound, a cry of grief and despair, drowned out Devimon’s booming voice.  Takeru didn’t recognize it as his screaming; all he saw was Angemon dissolving in front of him, vanishing, returning to nothing.

“Silence, boy!”  Each terrible claw seemed a living thing bent on eviscerating him.  Devimon’s hand rushed towards him at a speed that would likely take his head with it. 

Takeru screamed, screamed, _screamed_ , panicked beyond capacity to do anything else.

**XXX**

Takeru woke with a gasp.  He tried to move, to stand, to run, but he was tangled in sheets and covers.  He didn't understand that he had left a nightmare until he noticed the night light shining by his bedroom door.

His heart thumped painfully against his ribs.  Breathing heavily, he fell against his pillows.  They were wet with cooling sweat.  Takeru shivered and pulled the covers closer, but they were damp, too.  He covered his face with his hands, slitting his fingers enough to let in the night light's glow. 

When Takeru thought of Patamon during the day, he pictured him playing with Gabumon and the others.  But when Patamon appeared in his dreams...

They usually ended up like tonight's nightmare.

Takeru drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.  His mother said that he could always wake her if he had a bad dream, but she had to rest for work.  He could call Yamato, but the ringing phone would wake his father, who also had to be up early.

Besides, he was a brave kid.  One of the big boys.  Right?

But now, shivering in a damp bed with horrible images swirling in his head, darkness all around, and no sign of Patamon...  He certainly didn't feel like one.

_I won't cry!  I told Patamon I wouldn't!_   But his shoulders were already shaking, and that familiar burn exploded in the back of his eyes.  He was still trying to talk his mutinous body out of crying when the sobs hit, rocking his little body like a ship in a storm.

**XXX**

Takeru thought he would never fall asleep ever again, let alone that night, but he must have.  Dawn had broken when his mother woke him, flooding his room with reassuring light.  He felt battered, disoriented, still exhausted.  He twitched when Natsuko grabbed his chin and lifted it.  She scowled as she inspected him.

"Takeru," she sighed.  "Nightmares again?"  Heat spread across his cheeks.  He didn't want to make his mother worry, and he hated that the nightmares scared him so. 

Natsuko sat beside him on the bed and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.  Takeru nuzzled into her and breathed in, inhaling a scent that meant safety and support.  "I told you that you can wake me when you have bad dreams." 

Takeru paused, waiting for the urge to sniffle to pass.  "I know, but...  You have to sleep so you can be ready for work."

"Sweetheart..."  She ruffled his hair.  "You have school today.  You need rest even more than I do."

Takeru said nothing.  He thought of how Taichi and the others spared him from guard duty at night because he was too young and needed sleep.  He always thought that he could do it, too, but now...  Maybe they knew he wasn't brave enough for guard duty, but said he was too young for it out of kindness.

_But I'm brave when Patamon is with me.  Right?_   A few weeks ago, he would have said yes.  But after all these sleepless nights, he wasn't sure.

Natsuko checked her wristwatch and tensed, and he tensed in tandem.  He knew what that gesture meant: they were behind schedule, a sin for a reporter.  “Do you feel alright?  Can you go to school?”

“Yes!”  He didn’t want to disrupt Natsuko’s day, but even more, Takeru wanted to be at school, surrounded by children and normal things.  If he had to stay in the apartment by himself, his nightmares might leak into his waking mind.

Takeru leaped off his bed and moved towards the bedroom door.  “I’ll get ready!”  His mother followed, and though she said nothing, her concern was obvious.  Somehow, he could feel her watching him, wondering if he was alright.

He had tried his best to act brave, but Takeru knew she was worried.

**XXX**

Yamato stood in his apartment’s kitchen, storing a meal that his father hadn’t returned home to eat.  He placed the plate in the fridge, then turned to survey the mess he had made while cooking.

He did his best to keep meals simple, reducing his prep and cleanup time.  But Yamato knew his father, Hiroaki, ate junk during the day, and that dinner was his only chance for nutrition…  When he bothered to eat it, that is.  Sometimes, the plates he left for Hiroaki became Yamato’s dinner the next night.  It irked Yamato when his meals went uneaten, but still, he continued to provide a balanced diet.

Which meant that there were cutting boards, knives, pans, and other kitchen paraphernalia to clean.  Yamato thought of the mountain of homework he had to complete and grimaced.  When would he be able to sleep?

Griping would only delay bedtime, so Yamato tightened his apron, rolled up his sleeves, and grabbed his dish washing gloves.  He was about to dive in when the apartment phone rang.  Yamato glanced from the dirty kitchen to the phone, grumbled, and slapped the gloves on the counter.  He stomped to the land line on an end table in the living room.  “Ishida residence,” he growled into the receiver. 

The pause that followed irked him further, but he bit back his temper and waited.  “Y-yamato.”

He rarely heard that voice, but it was a part of him, coded into his DNA.  Yamato bent forward, splaying a hand onto the end table for support.  “Mom?”

The hopeful flavor of his voice made him grind his teeth.  What was it that he wanted from his mother, anyway?  All those years ago, when his parents announced their divorce, they had asked him to choose which child went where.  Yamato had offered to stay with Hiroaki, since his mother was the more skilled caretaker.  He probably could have lived with Takeru and Natsuko, but the thought of his father living all alone had tugged at his heartstrings, even back then.

What he hadn’t understood when he made that choice was that his mother would disappear from his life, and he would see his younger brother only once a year, at summer camp.  There was no reason to expect that things would change now, but here he was, heart jumping when his mother called.

“I’m sorry to call you on a school night.”  Her voice seemed to wake him from a trance, and Yamato shook his head, fighting to focus.  “Is your father in?”

“Dad’s at work.”  The plastic phone squealed in his tightening grip.  Yamato tried to release the pressure, but the comical sound repeated, fraying his temper.  “He’s never home this early.”

Another silence followed, more strained than the first.  “Um…  Do you mind if I ask you some questions?  It’s about Takeru.”

The living room seemed to distort as roaring filled Yamato’s skull.  While he wanted to help Takeru, and he was glad Natsuko cared for his brother…  Would it kill her to show some interest in him?  His diaphragm pulled hard, moving his chest and stomach with shallow, quick breaths.  Yamato drew the receiver away from his face, dampening the sound of his unnatural breathing.

_Get it together.  You already know how things are._ When enough control was restored, Yamato asked, “Is he alright?”

Natsuko sighed, and Yamato pictured her rubbing her temples, something she always used to do when she was stressed.  “Yes, but…  He’s having routine nightmares.  He won’t describe them in detail, but he says a monster from that other world is in them.”

Yamato’s knees weakened, so he walked around the end table, lifting the coiled phone cord.  He fell onto the sofa before attempting to answer.  “We went through a lot.” 

His mother hesitated, no doubt displeased with his evasive answer.  Yamato guessed that the nightmares had to do with Devimon, who had destroyed Angemon in front of Takeru.  Although Patamon was reborn, that moment of watching his digimon dissolve and thinking he would never see him again…  Yamato shuddered and rubbed his forehead, never realizing that his mother was likely doing the same thing.

“I can’t imagine,” Natsuko said at last.  “Takeru told me bits and pieces, but I know he’s leaving things out.  I’ve never gotten the full story.”

There was a pang deep in Yamato’s brain.  How could he shut Natsuko down without being an ass about it?  He hated to admit it, but that was his default setting when his mother was concerned.  “I can’t tell you Takeru’s story.  It’s his to tell, and there were times when we were separated.”

Natsuko sucked in a sharp breath.  “Oh, _Yamato!_   How could you leave him alone in that horrible place?!”

The calm he was struggling to establish shattered, and Yamato jerked upright, instinctively prepping for a fight.  “As if I had a choice!  I stayed with him as much as I could, but shit happens in the Digital World!”

“Yamato!  Language!”

“Oh, for-”  With supreme effort, Yamato clamped his lips shut before far worse language popped out.  This time, he didn’t bother to hide his labored breathing.  Besides, after the initial rush of anger, he recalled that he _did_ leave Takeru of his own free will.  Guilt rose, bolstering his fury.  But now, that ire reversed, a flaming arrow pointed at his chest.

“Look, Takeru was incredible in the Digital World.  He and Patamon saved all of us more than once.  And the Digital World is dangerous, but it’s important to us.”

“Alright.  But from my perspective, it’s the place where my boys were in danger.  It’s the place where Takeru came back haunted by nightmares.  I need to help him, Yamato.”

_My boys._ Yamato’s teeth sank into his lower lip, causing a burst of pain.  When, he wondered, did Natsuko mention her older son to her colleagues and friends?  How many of them even knew about him?  Did she think of herself as a mother of one, or two?

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Yamato replied, and the truth of those words hurt.  “I’d say you should make him some kind of therapy appointment, but…”

“Who would believe him?” Natsuko finished.  “That’s why I wish he would talk to me…  Has he talked to you about this?”

Yamato let her wait while he sorted his thoughts.  Takeru had called him often in the first month after their return.  But as summer break ended and school came into session, the calls slowed.  Yamato had assumed that Takeru was doing better, but maybe he didn’t have enough free time to vent now.  _Or maybe he was worried about me having time to listen_ _…_

“We talked about it during summer break, but it’s harder to find time to call now.  Maybe he could sleep over with me this weekend?” 

Somehow, Yamato felt his mother’s sudden stiffness.  “I’d really prefer if you came here.”

“Can’t,” Yamato replied coolly.  “Someone has to do the laundry here and cook.  Sunday is the only day I have a chance to get housework done.”  It occurred to Yamato that he should feel remorse for speaking the truth so bluntly, since it likely hurt his mother.  But what was he supposed to do, lie and wear dirty clothing next week? 

Still, the breathy quality of his mother’s voice caused a slight sting of shame.  “I see.  Wouldn’t watching him be too much trouble, then?”

Just like that, any chagrin erupted into anger.  “Mom.  You wanted me to stay with him in the Digital World, even when it was dangerous or impossible, but you think doing laundry with him around is too much?”

“That’s not-!”  Wetness joined her unsteady tone, and Yamato pinched the bridge of his nose.  No matter how justified he felt in speaking what he saw as the truth, it was time to backpedal.

“Sorry.  But it annoys me when someone talks about Takeru like he’s a burden.  Like I said, he’s strong.” 

After a tense silence, his mother exhaled.  This time, her voice sounded normal, with a trace of mom-ish irritation.  “That’s true, but he’s still a child.  All I’m saying is that you have a lot on your plate.”

_Don_ _’t say it.  Just drop it._ Despite his own advice, the words rushed from his heart to his mouth, leaving a bitter aftertaste.  “I’m a kid, too.  But I’ll do whatever I can to help my brother.”

His mother fumbled, then shifted the conversation to planning Takeru’s visit.  When they had things sorted, Natsuko said, “Tell your father to call me.  I know you’ll be the one watching Takeru, but it’s his apartment.  I need to clear this with him.”

“Sure.”  Yamato shrugged, even though no one would see it.  “I’ll tell him, but…”  _Don_ _’t be surprised if he doesn’t call._ He didn’t bother saying it.  He had already crossed one line too many during this phone call.

They said goodbye, and Yamato placed the phone back on its cradle.  He stared at it, trying to sort a writhing tangle of emotions. 

As difficult as that call was, he was grateful that Natsuko had alerted him to Takeru’s problems.  He was glad, too, that she thought he might be able to help.  But would it kill her to call just because she wanted to talk to him?  Why didn’t she ask how he was coping with the loss of Gabumon and the return to his old life?

Yamato clung to that familiar resentment, hoping anger would remain his dominant emotion.  But by degrees,  hurt leaked through that prickly barrier.  When his eyes began to water, he threw himself to his feet and stomped to the CD player in the corner of the room.

He slammed a disc in place, turned on the device, and cranked up the volume.  Screamy rock music filled the apartment, drowning out the sounds of his cleaning.

**XXX**

Takeru sat at the table, watching Yamato work in the kitchen.  This place was so different from the apartment he shared with his mother.  Natsuko decorated with photographs, throw pillows and blankets, and matching hand towels in the kitchen.  Yamato’s place seemed barren in comparison, but Takeru sensed that pointing out that difference might be rude.

Not that he minded.  His legs swung, an attempt to siphon his excess excitement.  He hadn’t seen Yamato in person since summer break, and it was September now.  Being away from him was even harder after growing accustomed to being with him all the time in the Digital World.

“Whatcha makin’?” Takeru asked.  Yamato looked up from his work and grinned.

“Burgers.  Fries, too.”  Takeru gasped with delight.  His mother restricted red meat and fried foods, which prompted Yamato to add, “Don’t tell Mom.”

“Can I have a soda?”  He tried to keep doubt out of his voice.  Yamato spoiled him when they were together, but he had limits.  He knew he had hit one when his brother shook his head.

“Too much caffeine too close to bedtime.  I have juice, though.”

Takeru blinked.  Why was caffeine the issue?  Usually, Yamato and his mother said that sugar was the problem with soda.  _He said bedtime_ _…  I wonder…_

Takeru’s fingers drummed against the table.  “Um, Onii-chan?  Did Mom tell you about… my dreams?”  Takeru was confused when his mother told him that he’d be staying with Yamato this weekend, but his happiness had outweighed any misgivings.  But now, things were starting to make sense.

The sound of Yamato forming the meat into patties came to an abrupt stop.  “Yeah.”  Oddly, Takeru relaxed.  While he wasn’t fond of this subject, his brother’s honesty was comforting.  “If you wanna talk about it tonight, we will.  If you don’t, fine.  Either way, you can sleep in my bed.  I set up a futon, so I’ll be in the same room.”

Takeru wasn’t prepared for the surge of relief that followed.  He went limp against the table, supporting his head with his crossed arms.  “I’ll take the futon.”  He didn’t mind the futon one bit, not if it was next to his brother’s bed.

Yamato shrugged, meaning that the subject of sleeping arrangements would continue at bedtime.  “Do you wanna talk?  It doesn’t have to be about the nightmares.  I want to know how you’re adjusting to school after…  Everything.”

Takeru stifled the urge to groan and smashed his face against his arms instead.  He considered giving his brother the same bright, cheerful answers that he gave his mother.  But then…  Didn’t it make him happy when Yamato was honest with him?  Didn’t he want to be a big kid, too?

“It’s… alright,” he said at last.  “Being at school is probably the easiest?  There’s lots of kids and things to do there.  I have Mom, and she’s great, but…  She’s not Taichi-san and the others.  She’s not Patamon.”  Takeru’s volume dropped to the point where he wasn’t sure if his brother would hear.  “She’s not you.”

The sounds from the kitchen, the sizzling and popping of oil in the frying pan, were oddly reassuring.  Yamato was listening, he was sure, but Takeru didn’t feel hovered over.  He could go at his own pace.  After working for a while, Yamato said, “You can call me anytime.  I know it’s not the same as me being there, but…  I mean it.  Day or night.”

Takeru spoke into his arms, muffling his voice.  “Thanks, but…  Everyone has stuff to do.  It’s not like the Digital World, where there’s no work or school.”

“I know what you mean, but…  We had some big responsibilities in the Digital World.”

Takeru nodded, forgetting that Yamato wasn’t looking.  There were a lot of things he didn’t like about the Digital World, and danger occupied the number one slot.  “It would be great if Patamon could live here and we could all hang out.  There were a lot of video games I wanted to show him, and a lot of candies he would have liked…”

“Yeah,” Yamato murmured.  He sounded sad, so Takeru pushed himself up and faced his brother.  Yamato’s back was to him as he pan fried their food.  Despite his youth, on some level, Takeru understood his brother’s posture as a reflection of him: body language closed, pointing away, but his heart painfully open, so sensitive to everything.

“But I’m okay!” he cried, needing to reassure.  “I miss Patamon, but I know I’ll see him again someday.  And I can hang out with you guys, right?  Do you think everyone would like that?  Maybe we could have a party.”

Yamato turned around, giving Takeru a view of his widening eyes.  “You want a get-together?” 

“Yeah!  I miss everyone, especially Hikari-chan.  And Sora-san was always so nice, like my Digital World mom!”

Yamato’s brow furrowed.  “Hmm…  Actually, Sora mentioned wanting to have a party.  I thought it would be hard to see everyone together without the digimon, but…  If you want it, maybe I can bring it up with her again.”

“Really?  That would be great.  Maybe we can finally play soccer together, with a real ball and field.”

Yamato turned back to the stove, but Takeru caught a glimpse of his grimace.  Slowly, Takeru recalled that the last time the Chosen had a soccer ball, Agumon turned into Skullgreymon.  _Oops.  I better not say something like that around Taichi-san_ _…_

Takeru fell silent.  Why was it that he remembered fun things like playing soccer, but had to concentrate to remember the bad things, like watching his friend, Agumon, turn into something horrible?  Was he trying to forget?  He liked thinking about the fun times he had with Patamon and everyone much more than the scary times, but he didn’t want to forget anything.

“You okay?”  Yamato’s voice snapped Takeru back into the moment.  He blinked, then turned the subject to something more cheerful.  He didn’t get to spend much time with his brother, after all.  He didn’t want to waste it by talking about sad things too much.

**XXX**

Taichi wasn’t sure why he was in the park, holding a soccer ball between his side and his bent elbow.  It was a fine day in September, with a slight bite of cold in the air.  Sighing, Taichi popped the ball into his hands.  Before the Digital World, he knew every scuff and indent on it.  But it had spent so long on the floor in his closet that he had forgotten the marks that made it his. 

He felt lost and more than a little foolish, standing still while children ran and played around him. The soccer field was overrun with younger kids trying to hold simultaneous games, drifting in and out of each other’s matches with a sense of friendly mass confusion.  It seemed fun, but then…  They were younger than him.  Even with the chaos, joining them would have been strange.

He relocated to a hilly part of the park that was dotted with trees.  It was more conducive to hide-and-seek and bug hunting than sports, but at least it was empty.  He dropped the ball and nudged it, amping up a test of footwork.  At first, it was easy enough.  But when he sped things up, his foot whiffed through empty air, and he lurched forward.

_The hell?_ Taichi blinked as the ball rolled away.  He lunged after it, diving back into the pace where he left off.  That tight control he was so proud of was embarrassingly absent.  Frustration built, masking a frantic wave of panic.

_This is bull!  I only stopped playing for a few weeks!  What the hell!_ After some more blunders, Taichi recalled that, while he hadn’t played for several weeks in earth terms, it had been months if he added the time spent in the Digital World.

His legs wobbled, so he plopped on the earth and seized his ball.  _I played soccer every damned day for as long as I can remember!  Even in winter, I_ _’d play in the school gym.  I should be able to take a break without losing everything!_

“Taichi-san!”

Taichi jerked, scrambling to a kneeling position.  A little boy ran towards him, and he forced himself to relax.  How long, he wondered, would he automatically assume that every stimulus was a threat?  He watched the boy approach, then stood when he recognized him

“What-  _Takeru_?  What are you doing here?”  Laughing, Takeru seized Taichi around the middle in a hug.  “Don’t you live on the mainland?”

Takeru’s head tipped back, revealing his beaming face.  Despite his confusion, Taichi couldn’t help grinning back.  Takeru looked just as he remembered: exuberant, effortlessly endearing.  “I do!  I’m here visiting Onii-chan, and he took me to the park.”

Taichi’s smile slipped.  _Yamato_ _’s here?_ He wasn’t sure why, but the thought put him on edge.  “Where is he?”

Takeru stepped back.  “He was going to get me ice cream at the stand nearby, but then I saw you.  He said to wait with you while he buys it.”

“O…kay.”  Although he knew Yamato wasn’t in sight, Taichi squinted in the direction Takeru had come from.  Why did Yamato send Takeru to him?  That nagging tension increased as he considered.  The most likely answer was that Yamato needed to sort himself out before approaching him.

And wasn’t that comforting?

“Are you playing soccer?” Takeru asked.  With effort, Taichi shook off his bad mood and grinned.

“Just messing around.  Do you wanna play?”

“Yeah, after the ice cream!  We’ll play with Onii-chan!”

_Oh, boy._ Taichi nodded, then took a seat on the grass.  Takeru plopped beside him and scooted in, still wearing that sweet smile. 

“How’s Hikari-chan?” Takeru asked.  “Do you think I could call her?  She wasn’t home the last time I called.”

“Yeah, she visits her friends a lot.  The next time she’s settled at home, I’ll tell her to call you.  As for how she’s doing…  Hm.  I think she’s been so social lately because it’s hard…”  Taichi rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say, and of what he had the right to reveal about Hikari.  “Well, it’s hard.”

Takeru sighed, then plopped his head against Taichi’s shoulder.  “Yeah…”  Taichi glanced over at the boy.  After some time in the Digital World, the Chosen grew more open to touch, owing to a combination of familiarity and necessity.  Takeru, being young, friendly, and a little clingy at times, was likely their most physically affectionate member.  But somehow, Taichi was surprised to see that habit translate over to earth.

_Why do I think it_ _’s weird?  We’re not active anymore, but we’re still the Chosen.  What happened still happened, even if it feels like another lifetime._ Despite that logic, Taichi had to admit that it felt strange when he ran into the kids he met through the Digital World these days.

“I’m worried about Hikari-chan.  A lot of scary things happened, and she’s probably sad about Wizarmon.  I’m sad about Gotsumon and Pumpmon.  I bet you’re doing okay, though.”  Takeru lifted his head and turned admiring eyes to him.     

Taichi’s brain walloped him with signals of defeat, embarrassment, and inadequacy.  Why was it that Takeru looked up to him, anyway?  Was it better to play along with Takeru’s expectations, so that he had something to work towards?  Or was it better to tell the truth? 

In the end, Taichi was too exhausted to maintain a front.  “I…  I’ve felt better,” he said at last.  “It’s hard to go to school and do homework, like nothing ever happened.  I miss Agumon.”

Those big blue eyes widened.  Impossibly, Takeru leaned closer.  “It’s hard?  Even for _you_?”  Taichi offered a wry grin and a nod. 

Takeru gazed off to the side.  “Hmm, Onii-chan said it’s hard for him, too…”

“You see?” Taichi said, shrugging.  “It is what it is.  It’s okay if you’re struggling.  That doesn’t mean you’re weak.”     

“It doesn’t?!”  Takeru’s volume and intensity made Taichi want to lean away, but he forced himself to stay put.  He was pretty sure he understood why the boy reacted so strongly.  After all, hadn’t he wondered if he was weak, lately?

Taichi clapped a hand on Takeru’s shoulder.  “Never think you’re weak.  Who escaped Pinochimon on his own?  Whose partner saved all of us over and over?  Holyangemon brought most of us back to our normal bodies after Piemon…”  Taichi paused.  Even now, he had trouble talking about the battle with Piemon.  Being turned into a key chain hadn’t hurt, and he didn’t remember being one.  Still, the thought of his body being compressed, and his mind and will functionally shut off, was far from comfortable.

“Honestly?” Taichi began, dropping that terrible thread.  “You’re probably one of the toughest kids in the world.  Maybe _the_ toughest.”

“ _Really?_ _”_ Taichi swallowed the snort threatening to pop free.  He could almost see the manga screen tone sparkling behind Takeru, highlighting his excited expression.  But that brightness slowly faded, and Takeru pulled his legs to his chest and rested his head on his knees. 

“Thanks, Taichi-san, but…  I don’t _feel_ very tough.”

“Hey.”  Taichi threw his arm around Takeru’s shoulders, pulling him in.  “What’s wrong?”

Takeru’s brow pressed down, casting rare shadows over his eyes.  “Um…  Don’t tell anyone, okay?  Especially not Hikari-chan.”

“Sure.”  Taichi wasn’t sure why Takeru was singling out his sister, but he figured it came down to pride, somehow.  He wasn’t about to step on Takeru’s, not if he could help it. 

“I’ve… been having nightmares.  Usually, um…  Patamon gets hurt, or Angemon.  And I wanna say that it doesn’t bother me.  I _know_ they’re just dreams, I _know_ they can’t hurt me, but it’s _so scary_ , and I have them almost every night!  I wanna be brave, but instead…  My mom worries about me, and now Onii-chan does, too.”

Taichi couldn’t name what he was feeling, or even describe it.  All this time, he had tried to keep how he was feeling quiet, forgetting that someone younger than him, someone who looked up to him, was going through the same pain.  Could he have helped Takeru if he hadn’t chosen to pull away? 

His voice came out gentle, quiet, almost a whisper.  For the first time, he admitted, “I have nightmares, too.”

Takeru’s hand landed on his knee and squeezed.  “You do?”

“Yeah.  Sometimes, I’m with the Chosen and the digimon, and they disappear.  Sometimes, someone gets hurt.  And sometimes…  Sometimes I see…  Skullgreymon.”

The boy’s fingernails dug into Taichi’s skin.  “Oh, no.”

Taichi managed a faint laugh.  “Y-yeah.  Sometimes, when I have a nightmare, I have to get up and move.  I have to make sure I’m okay, that Hikari’s okay.  Dealing with them isn’t easy.”

“But why do we have them?” Takeru asked.  “I always try to think about Patamon having fun with the others.  I don’t wanna think about the bad stuff.”

“It’s good to think positively.  That proves how strong you are.  But we saw some scary things, Takeru.  Those memories don’t just… go away because we don’t like them, or because we try to focus on good ones.”

Takeru stared at the grass for a long interim, his face unusually grave.  “But…  I just wanna be strong and brave.  Then I won’t make anyone worry, and I can think about seeing Patamon again.  Why is the bad stuff scaring me when it’s over?”

“I’m telling you, you _are_ strong and brave.  Courage isn’t about not being afraid.”

Takeru sat up straighter, like a student called to attention in class.  “Right!  You’re the Chosen of Courage!  You can tell me how to be braver!”

Taichi fought the urge to smack his face.  He settled for grinding his teeth, then forcing a calm he didn’t feel.  “I just said that you’re brave.  None of the Chosen are stupid.  We understood that fighting evil digimon was dangerous.  We knew what was at stake.  And sometimes…  Sometimes, that pressure was too much.  But, in the end…  We all did what we had to do.  And you and Patamon were always ready to save the day.”

Takeru’s shoulders slumped.  “You’re saying it’s okay to be scared?”

“Right.  It would be weird if you weren’t!”

The boy crossed his arms.  “But the nightmares are a problem!  Can I make them go away?”

“I wish we could,” Taichi sighed.  “I think the best thing to do is to talk to someone you trust about them.  You said you don’t want your mom and Yamato to worry about you, but when they see you struggling and you won’t talk to them, they’ll worry more.  Plus, if you tell someone how you feel, you might feel better.”

“It’s hard, though…”

Taichi grimaced.  “Yeah, it really is.  But, like I said…  Courage is doing something you’re afraid to do, even though you’re scared.”

Takeru nodded.  “Okay.  The next time I have a nightmare, I’ll tell someone, even if it’s late.”

Taichi patted his back.  “Good.  You can call me, if you need.”

“Really?”  Takeru’s trademark grin returned, complete with that shining quality in his eyes.  “Then you can call me if you have a nightmare, too!”

Taichi’s smile faltered.  In his focus on reassuring Takeru, he had failed to notice that he was being hypocritical.  A chill rolled over him, despite the comfortable weather.  “Er-  Sure.  Thanks, Takeru.”

“Oh, yeah!” Takeru cried.  Taichi leaned in, eager to be distracted by his rapidly mounting discomfort.  “Onii-chan told me that we might have a get-together!  Wouldn’t that be fun?!”

_That again_ _…_ “Uh, yeah?” he hedged.  Seeing the Chosen one-on-one was sometimes helpful, and even fun.  But those encounters had a raw edge to them, a deep discomfort.  Was hurting together comforting, or just another chance to hurt?

_You just told the kid not to cut himself off from everyone.  You know, like you do._ Takeru was already chatting, talking faster and faster with anticipation for a get-together that wasn’t planned yet.  Taichi couldn’t help envying Takeru’s cheerfulness.  He made everything seem so… straightforward. 

“Onii-chan!”  Taichi glanced up and saw Yamato approaching, hands full.  Takeru shot up and raced to his brother, leaving Taichi to follow at a more sedate pace.  Although seeing Yamato had stressed him earlier, now he was glad to have help with Takeru.  He liked the kid, probably loved him, but he had a lot on his mind.

Yamato handed his brother a cup of ice cream.  Taichi tipped his head.  Why was he still carrying two more cups?  Shrugging it off, he joined the brothers.  “Hey, Yamato.”

“Hey.”  Yamato stared at him, and Taichi fought against rolling his eyes.  His friend’s gaze was as piercing as ever.  Although he and Takeru both had blue eyes, Takeru’s seemed filled with light, and Yamato’s pulsed with electricity.  He was always feeling too much, and it spilled out from everywhere.

Taichi was about to ask what Yamato was gawking at when he held out a cup of ice cream.  “Chocolate okay?”

Taichi’s brow shot up.  “Uh, yeah.  Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Thank you, Onii-chan!”  Takeru stood close to his brother, just an inch or so away from being stuck to his side.  Taichi might have teased him if he didn’t know that the brothers lived in separate homes.  The boy tugged on his older brother’s hand.  “Guess what!  We’re gonna play soccer!”

“Oh, yeah?”  Grinning, Yamato tipped his head.  “You up for it, Taichi?”

“You know it.” 

For now, Taichi wouldn’t think about support, hardship, get-togethers, his loss of specialized muscle memory, or any of it.  He decided to focus on ice cream and friends, especially the little kid who could pull people out of their funks with the sheer force of his cheerfulness.

Later- much later- he could think about living up to the faith Takeru had in him.

**Author** **’s Note:**   And there it is, likely the longest chapter of _After August_.  Takeru really is a sweet kid.  I’m fascinated with Yamato’s family situation, too.  We’ll be seeing more of that in his chapter, which I believe is the ninth out of ten.

The next chapter, _Our Integrity_ , is the bonus OC chapter.  Please look forward to it, and please remember to review!

(Also, because it might be confusing, Taichi didn’t lose his fitness.  He lost his highly specialized muscle memory related to soccer).


	6. Our Integrity

****

**After August**

_Our Integrity (Chapter 6 of 10)_

Eimi stared at the container of marbles in front of her.  Her physical therapist, a middle aged, no-nonsense woman, stood on the opposite side of the table at which Eimi sat.  Dread filled her as the PT tipped the container over, spilling the colorful globes.

“Pick them up,” she said.  Then she left to attend to another patient, a teenager with a sports injury.

Stifling a sigh, Eimi picked up the first marble and dropped it into the container.  It made a popping sound on contact, followed by a whirl as it slid around the plastic.  Picking up the first few marbles was easy.  But before long, her fingers weakened, then began to shake.  Sweat beaded her forehead as a marble slid beneath her digits and rolled away.  That sigh finally came free as she leaned across the table and scooped it back by cupping her hand against the surface.

The stupid marbles glittered in the overhead lighting, pretty little baubles that shouldn’t have given her a second thought.  How had picking up toys become a challenge?  Eimi turned her hands face-up against the table, hoping the shaking would cease if she took a break.

The burns on her palms were about two months old, now.  When she returned from the Digital World, the skin was mottled red and puffy, a painful, scarlet wreck.  With regular treatment and topical medication, the swelling was gone, and crimson had faded to light brown.  Soon, she was told, the discoloration would vanish, and the only sign of injury would be the rivet-shaped scar on her left palm, a circular indent on her lifeline.

She flexed her fingers.  The skin no longer felt gummy or rubbery, and at last, mercifully, the movement caused no pain.  But an odd resistance remained, adding effort to every action. 

Eimi wiped her brow, feeling depleted in a way she couldn’t describe.  Hopefully, with time, she’d be able to look at that scar without thinking about receiving it.  But for now, it pitched her mind into darkness, broken intermittently by glowing computer screens.  Far above her, a pair of crimson eyes gleamed, moving closer.  Mechanical jaws opened with a groan, revealing a pipe that could act as a flamethrower, lit angry orange.  The air simmered with heat.  The din of battle surrounded her: screaming digimon, flying missiles, the crunch of robotic bodies being ripped and crushed to scrap.  Koushiro sat behind her, frantically working at a computer, trying to remove the virus that Mugendramon had planted in the city’s mechanical digimon via their wireless internet.

If Mugendramon released his flames, Koushiro would die.  And so, Eimi did something more desperate than brave: she reached up, grabbed the Dark Master’s massive head, and tried to shove it aside.  Her skin seared on contact with the superheated metal, a pain that didn’t register through her panic.  It hit her later, when she lay crumpled on the ground, dazed by a blow and waiting for a killing strike that never came.

“I don’t hear marbles,” her PT called.  Eimi’s head snapped up.  How long had she zoned out?  Sheepishly, she grabbed a marble and dropped it with its fellows, filling the room with cheerful plinks that failed to lighten her mood.

**XXX**

Eimi returned home following her physical therapy appointment.  Fitting them in had been easy during summer break, but now she had to attend after school.  She had hoped to join a singing club this year, but that time slot was filled with appointments and rest for now.

At least there was a silver lining.  Therapy sessions were shorter than the average club meeting, and her father was still at work.  Eimi entered her apartment without fear, said hello to her mother, and retreated to her bedroom.

Her room was tiny, barely large enough for a twin bed and a dresser, but it was private.  She closed her door, dropped her backpack, and knelt by her bed.  It was propped on four blocks, creating storage space.  Eimi reached under and slid a locked storage box towards her.  The key was on her keyring, which she kept on her person whenever possible. 

This box contained miscellaneous technology, most of it old models from Koushiro, and sometimes Taichi and Hikari.  She extracted her laptop, its power cord, and a headset with a microphone, locked it back up, and pocketed the keys.  Although the computer was password protected, her family members could take it away if she didn’t secure it.

Eimi flopped on her bed and booted up the system.  Koushiro’s techno magic overhauls kept it working despite its age, and it ran simple programs and web browsers.  She launched a voice-to-text program and readied the headset.

Eimi cleared her throat.  Talking to herself like this made her self-conscious, but writing with injured hands was uncomfortable.  With a shaky, uncertain voice, she began, “Hi Gale.  It’s October first.  I went to school today, then physical therapy.  It was a pretty normal day, I guess.”

Eimi trailed off.  Her gaze moved from the screen, where her eyes confirmed that the speech translation to text was correct, to her window.  The Daikanransha was lit in the early twilight, a rotating rainbow of color in the distance.

“I can’t believe it’s been two months.  I wanted to visit the aquarium today, but it was already too late after therapy, and…  Well, I don’t have any money.  And anyway…  Those dolphins aren’t the same.”

Eimi turned to the dresser pushed up against the bed.  The end of it served as a nightstand, and two framed pictures were stationed there.  One contained a picture of her and Koushiro as small children.  The other was from their last day in the Digital World.  Eimi picked it up and smiled down at Galemon, a digimon resembling a pink Amazon river dolphin.  Unlike the animal, Galemon had long, flowery extensions on either side of her head and swirling clouds for a fluke. 

In the image, Galemon floated above Eimi’s shoulder.  Eimi was smiling, but the skin around her eyes was red from tears.  She looked much the same then as now- long brown hair, brown eyes, tall, and bespectacled- but she felt vastly different. 

“I miss you,” she sighed.  “Every day.  It’s like everywhere I go, I’m always trying to find you.  I mean, I’m not turning rocks over, but…  Some part of me expects to turn a corner and see you there.  I dunno…  It’s so weird, trying to focus on school and everyday stuff when my heart is so full of you and everything that happened in the Digital World.”

“I know you’d want to hear that I’m okay, but…  I’m struggling.  Obviously the Digital World was dangerous, but…  I’ll be in a classroom or my bedroom, and I’ll think of having fun with everyone around a fire at night and cuddling up in a big pile of kids and digimon to sleep.  And you know, a few weeks ago, the fate of two worlds sat on our shoulders.  Now tests and dealing with things in my apartment are my biggest worries.  And that should be easier, right?  And it is.  But…  I miss you.  I miss the Chosen.”

Eimi lifted her laptop long enough to slide under her covers, making herself comfortable.  Sometimes, when she spoke out loud to Galemon like this, it almost felt like her partner could hear.  Sinking into that feeling was the closest she could come to being with her now. 

“I know I can visit them, and I do.  Koushiro and Mimi-chan are in the same year as me at school, so I see them.  And I go to the Izumis a lot; I’ll probably go do my math homework with Kou after this.  Jyou-senpai asked me to come over so his dad could look at my hands.  I have my own doctor, but it was nice of him to worry.  I went to a cafe with Sora and Mimi-chan about two weeks ago.  But I haven’t seen Takeru since then, and I’ve only run into Yamato at school.”

“As for Taichi and Hikari…”  Eimi flicked her braid over her shoulder and began picking at the end.  “My mom and their mom are sisters, remember?  I used to see them pretty regularly, but…  I dunno.  If I ask Hikari out, she says yes, but Taichi…”

Eimi blew a raspberry, and the software translated it into a string of confused letters.  With a weak laugh, Eimi deleted the mess and continued.  “I worry about him.  I worry about all of us.  I wish we’d get together, like Sora suggested at the cafe.  I know Mimi-chan wants to, but some of the others seem kind of… reluctant?  Like maybe the reminder of all us together will be a step back in adjusting to our old lives, or something?”

“But Taichi…  From what I can tell, he’s been really subdued since then.  And he quit soccer club, which is crazy!”  Eimi paused and tapped her chin, considering.  “Koushiro’s been kind of the opposite.  Well, he always works too much, but ever since we returned, he’s been super glued to his computer.  He asked me not to tell anyone, but he’s working on a gate to the Digital World.  He’s going to make sure that we see the digimon again, so I try to stay strong.  I know he can do it.  I _know_ I’ll see you someday.”

Eimi released a slow, shaky breath.  She had no doubt in Koushiro, nor in the the bond she shared with Galemon.  Still, in panicked moments, most common in the liminal space between sleep and waking, the fear that she would never see Galemon again, or that none of this had happened at all, would consume her.  Eimi grabbed the photo and pulled it close, like a talisman against those fears. 

“I want to see you so much,” she whispered.  “But I won’t pressure Kou.  I know he’s pushing hard for the Digital World gate, so I’ll try to make him relax after I finish this.  And since neither of us are in clubs right now, I can visit Taichi after school tomorrow.”

“As for me…  Well, I hope you’re not worrying about me too much.  I hope…”  A lump formed in her throat, and Eimi cleared it away.  “I hope you’re well and happy.  I hope you’re hanging out with Tentomon and the others.  And I hope you know…  Even though I feel so lost and out of place, I’m trying my best to keep moving forward.”

Pressure built in her eyes, and Eimi wiped the moisture away.  “Because that’s the gift you gave me, Gale.”               

**XXX**

Taichi sat at his desk in his bedroom, staring at his English workbook.  He had listened to today’s lecture, more or less, and yet the characters were gibberish, the meanings flashing in and out of context.  He rubbed his wrists against his eyes and groaned.  Maybe soccer club was a better idea than coming home right away, after all.  It was easier to be flippant about homework when he had club activities to focus on.

He was about to abandon his work for television when the bedroom door swung open.  Taichi swiveled his desk chair around, eager for an interruption from his mom or Hikari.  Instead, he found Eimi in his doorway, grinning and carrying a baggie.

“Heyyy,” she sang in English.  “What’s up?”

Taichi hesitated, caught off guard by her sudden appearance.  “Er- hey.  Uh, homework, I guess?”

Her eyebrows rose in mock surprise.  “Really?” she replied, switching to Japanese.  “Homework over soccer?”

He fought the urge to twitch.  As was often the case, Eimi seemed to pluck thoughts out of his head and toss them into the open.  “It’s English,” he said, holding the workbook up.  “Help me out, will ya?”

Nodding, Eimi shut the door and pulled Hikari’s desk chair next to his.  She took a seat and handed him the baggie.  “Here.  Izumi-san baked them yesterday.”

“Koushiro’s mom?!”  Taichi grabbed the bag, more excited by the food than Eimi’s visit.  “Sweet!  Thanks!”

“Mm hmm.” 

Taichi meant to eat a cookie, but something about Eimi's expression stilled the urge.  She watched him with those big, dark eyes, and knowing her, she was seeing more than he'd want her to.  "Yeah?" he snapped, pushing the baggie to the end of the desk.  "What do you want?"

Eimi snorted.  "Charming.  It's been a while since we've talked, is all.  How are you?"

His shoulders snapped up, and he eased them back down in awkward stages.  "Did Sora send you?  Or did Hikari call?"

Eimi's head tipped to the side as her brow pressed down, like a quizzical puppy.  "Um, what?  You make it sound like they hired me as a hit man."

Since she seemed baffled, and maybe a touch hurt, Taichi tried to reign himself in.  He drew a long breath, let it out, and said, "I dunno.  I think Hikari's been sending people over here.  She thinks I'm down, or whatever."

Without noticing, Taichi had grabbed the edge of the desk and started squeezing.  He followed Eimi's gaze to his knuckles, whitened with the force of his grip.  Eimi's confusion visibly softened to concern.  _Damn it!_

She scooted her chair closer to his, until their elbows touched. "It's okay to be down.  I know I am."

Taichi stared.  After weeks of family and friends trying to push him back into his old life, often with a sense of urgency and worry, he wasn't sure how to parse her calm, soft tone.

"Er.”  Despite having grown up around her, Taichi wasn’t skilled at navigating Eimi’s meandering moods and thoughts.  He tried to think of a way to draw information from her, unsure of whether he wanted to prepare himself for this conversation or avoid it.  “Uh, how are you doing?"

Her lips scrunched to one side before she shrugged.  "Heavy, I think.  Everything's a little... sad, a little off.  Almost blurry, but like... emotionally?  It feels so weird that the world is still spinning, the same as ever.  And you wonder...  Who cares about homework and tests?  I want to know how Gale and the others are.  Finding the motivation to go through the motions is... hard."

Taichi's elbow slid off the desk as he whirled his chair towards hers.  "Yeah.  Yeah, exactly!"  The rush of being understood was so powerful that he smiled, despite the subject matter.

But then, he noticed her upturned palms, cradled on her lap.  In his mind, he saw her holding them like that in the Digital World, protecting the red, swollen skin.  Gingerly, he took hold of her wrists, pulling her arms towards him.  His elation faded as quickly as it had come.  "Hell.  How are your hands?"

They seemed far better than before, but her skin was darker, and the circular scar was pronounced.  Eimi flexed her fingers, as if to reassure him that she could.

"It's alright.  They're saying the scar is all that's permanent."

Taichi turned her wrists this way and that, as if he could find an angle where the damage disappeared from sight.  "Eimi...  Dammit.  I...  I'm sorry."

Eimi flipped her hands over, sliding them into his.  "What do you mean?"

Part of him wanted to release her, to shy away from contact.  Another wanted to hold on tighter than her injuries would likely permit.  "I...  If I hadn't freaked out when Hikari got sick, then Mugendramon wouldn't have found us.  Hikari, Sora, Takeru, and I wouldn't have fallen into the sewers.  Mugendramon wouldn't have found you and Koushiro.  Then Koushiro wouldn't have been kidnapped, and you wouldn't have gotten hurt.”

 “Whoa!”  Eimi’s already-large eyes flared open, giving her a manic appearance.  “Taichi- that’s a _lot_ of what ifs!  You can’t-”  Her brow furrowed as she paused.  Although his heart was heavy, Taichi nearly grinned as a string of befuddled emotions flicked across her face. 

“Okay,” she said at last.  “You _can_ _’t_ take responsibility for all of that.  It’s not your fault that you guys fell into the sewers and Koushiro and I didn’t.  You’re definitely not to blame for anything Mugendramon did.  And when I hear you talk like this, I wonder…  Are you blaming yourself for everything that went wrong in the Digital World?”

The concern in her eyes and the stinging in his chest were too much.  Taichi looked away, staring at a random point on the floor.  “It’s not like that.  I just… wish I had done some stuff better.”

Eimi’s thumb swept over the back of his hand.  “I think everyone thinks that, sometimes.  But…  Well, do you remember when you talked to me after my crest…  After I deactivated it?”

Taichi’s head jerked up.  Eimi had never brought up turning off her crest of integrity by breaking a promise in his hearing.  He nodded, unsure of what to say without causing offense.  She smiled, but pain lingered in her eyes.

“You told me that it’s okay to make mistakes.  You said the only shame is if you don’t learn from them, if you don’t get back up, or if you don’t try to make things right.  Those words…  They meant so much to me.  They kept me going when Koushiro was captured and I was alone.” 

A mischievous smile played at her lips, and Taichi leaned back, instantly wary.  “So!  If _you_ _’re_ going to kick yourself around for your mistakes, then _I_ have to kick myself around for mine.  Is that what you want?”

Taichi managed a weak chuckle.  “Alright, alright, _fine_.  I get it.  It’s not my fault.”

“Good.”  Eimi released him and eased her chair back, giving them both some space.  “I’m glad.  You don’t deserve to feel bad about what you did the Digital World.  None of us do, I think.  We all made mistakes, but…  We pulled through somehow, you know?  And you…”

Her arms crossed as she stared off to the side.  “I’m not sure how to say this, but…  I worry about all of the Chosen, but you and Koushiro most of all.”

A scowl curled across Taichi’s face.  Rationally, he knew better than to assume that Eimi thought he and Koushiro were weaker than the others, but his fears and doubts were stronger than his logic.  “What?” he snapped.  “ _Why?_ ”

Eimi shook her head, smiling softly.  “It’s nothing bad.  It’s because you two had the most on your shoulders.  At first, we stumbled around the Digital World blind.  But once we understood the situation more, you started thinking about our next move, watching out for us, keeping us together.  And Koushiro was always buried in his laptop, trying to figure things out and learn things that could help us and keep us safe.”

“We’re a team,” Taichi objected, and Eimi nodded.

“I’m not trying to diminish myself or the others.  But I also can’t ignore that you two carried so much.”  Her volume dropped, and he had to lean closer to hear the rest.  “Oh, Taichi…  It was so much pressure.  I’m sorry if we leaned on you too hard.”

Taichi swallowed and felt a lump bump down his throat.  What was he supposed to say?  Her acknowledgment was kind, but he felt oddly disquieted.  “T-thanks.”

Eimi rubbed her forehead, fingertips digging red streaks into her skin.  “I think that because you two put so much into the Digital World and the Chosen…  I wonder if you both lost the most, and if adjusting to our world is even harder for you.”

Taichi leaned towards her, drawn to her words without realizing it.  “What do you mean?”

She blinked, likely surprised by his sudden interest.  “Well…  You both lost an extra role, an extra purpose.  You’re the leader.  We all rallied around you, and I’d be surprised if that didn’t become part of your identity.  And Koushiro…  He’s never been able to work with people in person like that.  Most of his friends and contacts were online before the Digital World, but there…  He had all of these kids gathered around, trusting that whatever he discovered would help.  And now…”

That sadness crept back into her voice.  “And now he’s back to working alone in his room again…”

_Alone in his room_ _…  Sounds familiar._ “Yeah,” Taichi muttered, pushing aside his discomfort.  “Some leader I am.  The others seem to be doing better than I am, these days.”

“I just _said_ it might be harder for you,” Eimi sighed.  “Look…  It feels weird to say this, because of course I want to see you enjoy the things you always liked and be energetic again.  But…  A mourning heart is heavy.  That’s where we all are right now.  If taking some time for yourself is how you need to deal with losing the Digital World and the digimon, then…  Well, that’s what you should do.”

Taichi plastered a teasing smile onto his face, but the tremor in his voice betrayed his vulnerability.  “You’re not gonna tell me to get out of my room and start going to soccer club again?”

“I feel like I should, but…  Do what you have to do, okay?  Just promise me that if you need help or want to talk, you’ll reach out.  All of the Chosen will help you if you ask.”

“And if I don’t,” Taichi muttered, cracking a reluctant smile. 

Eimi’s expression lightened at last.  “Yep!  Just remember, Agumon and the other digimon gave us this life.  You have to take care of yourself to honor that gift.”

Taichi pushed back, desperate for both emotional and physical space.  “Isn’t your advice kinda contradictory?”

Eimi laughed, stood, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squishing him into a hug.  He grunted, sounding just like Miko when Hikari hugged her too tight.  “Just take care, Taichi.  That’s the important thing.  We all love you.  That’s why we can’t leave you alone.”

“Gross!”  Taichi squirmed out of her hold and slid his chair back until it collided with the desk.  “Give me a break!”

“Fiiiine.”  Eimi sang the word, raising and lowering her pitch.  “Call me any time, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.  _Goodbye._ ”  Her only response was a laugh.  When she closed the bedroom door behind her, Taichi slumped in his chair, wondering when Eimi had grown so troublesome…  And knowing, deep in his heart, that she was actually unbearably tender, and he had never known how to accept that.

He sat there for a long time, sorting through everything she had said.  Eventually, he turned his chair back around, so that it faced the desk.  He was beginning to calm down… until he noticed his English workbook opened to a blank page.

_Crap!  I forgot to get help!_ “Eimi!” he roared, knowing that she was long gone. 

He froze when muffled giggles floated through the closed door.  He shoved a finger in his ear, wondering if it was clogged or somehow malfunctioning.  Frowning with confusion, he opened the door…  And found Eimi leaning against the frame, laughing into her cupped hand.

A glance at his face launched her into belly-shaking, snorting laughter.  Although her ability to foresee his actions and troll him was annoying, her presence caused a rush of fondness.  Taichi watched her, red-faced and shaking, and smiled.

“Alright,” he sighed, waving her back in.  “You got me.  I forgot to ask for help.”

When her laughter tapered off, Eimi wiped her eyes and slid past him, entering the room again.  “You do that,” she said, softening the scold with a gentle smile.  “But I’ll be here, anyway.”

As usual, Taichi’s instinct was to deflect with a joke or a retort.  Instead, he took a deep breath and placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to an awkward, one-armed hug.  “Yeah,” he said softly.  “I know.  Me, too.”

They sat at the desk, and Eimi pulled the workbook closer.  She reached for a pencil, but Taichi gripped her arm, avoiding her healing hands.  “I need to finish my homework, but after that…  Do you need to talk?”

It was strange, watching those dark eyes flit through a thousand emotions in the span of seconds.  In a way, Eimi was like Yamato, with feelings pouring through every nook and cranny, like steam escaping a tea kettle.  But where he was storms and lightening, a churning sea, Eimi was more like a sailor, sniffing the air, watching the sky, straining to hear the subtle shifts in the song of wind and waves.  Intuition, empathy, perception; he had no idea what to call her skill in reading people.  All he knew was that he rarely had to explain himself to Eimi.

“You have a lot on your plate,” she said at last. 

Taichi felt more than heard his soft laugh.  “We all do.  But you want to help me, yeah?”

“Of course.”  She said it so easily, so matter-of-fact.  Although she seemed calm, Taichi blushed _for_ her for speaking a truth that felt raw and embarrassing to him.

He cleared his throat, then gripped her shoulder.  “I want to help you, too, if I can.  So…  If you need to get anything off your chest, about the Digital World or therapy or Mugendramon or…”   

Taichi trailed off.  There were a million scary things he could have mentioned, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak them.  Besides, Eimi was smiling, lighting up from within in a way that she rarely showed anyone, except for Galemon and Koushiro.  He couldn’t figure out why she looked so happy- wasn’t talking about this kind of thing hard?- but he smiled back, unable to resist.

“Thanks,” she said.  “And hey?  Just so you know?”  Taichi fought the urge to flinch.  He was at the end of his emotional capacity, so he inclined his head, unwilling to risk speaking.  “You’re so strong.  I know you’ll be okay, so take your time.  Okay?”

Heat and pain rushed to his eyes, and Taichi swallowed a curse.  He appreciated her words, but the last thing he needed was to start crying.  And how the hell was he supposed to respond? 

Eimi turned to the desk and pulled the workbook closer.  “Hmm…  This isn’t so bad.  Do you want me to speak to you in English while we work on this?”

Taichi shook his head.  He meant to clear it out, to shift from their conversation to homework, but Eimi took it as a response.  “Fine, Japanese.  You really should practice your English on me, though.”  She flashed a teasing grin.  “Your accent is terrible.”

“What!” Taichi cried.  “Give me a break!  It’s not _my_ fault I wasn’t raised speaking English.”  He grumbled when she laughed, but scooted his chair closer.  He hated homework, especially English.  But suddenly, Taichi was glad to be bent over a workbook with a friend.

 

**Author** **’s Notes:**  If you’re interested in Eimi, please check out [Growing Up with You](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8569684/1/Growing-Up-with-You) (currently only available on Fanfiction.net).  If not, well, _Our Purity_ is next, and it’s one of my favorite chapters!  Please look forward to it, and remember to review.  It would mean a lot to me.

I commissioned the art above from [beepsiart](http://beepsiart.tumblr.com/).


	7. Our Purity

**After August**

_Our Purity (Chapter 7 of 10)_

Mimi opened the door to her school’s art room and poked her head in.  Despite its generous size, it was cramped with cubbies, equipment, and students.  Pieces in various stages lined the perimeter, ranging from paintings to pottery, with everything in between.  Members of the many art clubs sat clustered at the tables, surrounded by supplies and equipment.  Golden light flooded through the enormous windows, creating glowing rectangles of light that hovered overhead like halos.  The chatter of students completed the vibe of a happy, busy studio.   

"Hello," she called, smiling brightly, drawn in by the atmosphere.  "Mimi's here!  I asked about joining the painting club's activities today!"

A chair grated against the floor as a boy hastened to stand.  The painting club president was a year older than her and struck her as a serious person, but he allowed her participation without reservation.  "Here, Tachikawa-kun."

"Hi, Tamura-san!"  Mimi entered the room, weaving between tables and easels.  She came to a stop in front of him and slid the large tote off her shoulder.  "Thanks for letting me join in."

"Of course.  Anyone is free to use the school equipment, as long as you clean and store everything.  If you have any questions, let one of us know."

"Thank you!"  Mimi smiled, then turned to the table, hoping to find a good spot.  She had a few friends in this club, and they waved her down and made room for her.

"Thanks!" Mimi chirped as she dropped her bag.  She rubbed her shoulder and sighed.

"What's in the bag?"  Haruka, a classmate and friend, peeked into the pink tote.  Mimi removed the contents, piling little terracotta pots onto the table.  Saki, another friend, tipped her head and frowned.

"That's right," she muttered.  "You've been talking about plants a lot recently..."

Mimi felt her smile fade from vibrant to wistful.  "Yeah.  I guess I got a green thumb over the summer."

"So random!" Haruka laughed.  "What kind of plants?"

"Mostly cacti and succulents."  Mimi leaned forward for a better view of the paint colors and brushes stationed at the center of the table.  "I have a few pups, so I want to give them to friends."

"Do you need any help?  I know where to get more supplies, too."  Saki looked away from the ceramic bowl she was painting and stood.

"Sure."  Mimi followed her friend to the nearest set of cubbies, where she surveyed her choice of tools.  "What works best for painting pots like mine?"

Saki helped her make selections and carry them back to the table.  For a while, Mimi was quiet, focused on her work.  After nearly half an hour, Saki murmured, "Mimi-chan?"

"Hmm?"  Mimi was painting a curve in red on a pot, her brow furrowed in concentration.  It turned out that painting free hand was more difficult than she had anticipated.

"Um...  How are you feeling, lately?"

Mimi completed the arc with her brush, then placed it on her palette.  "What do you mean?"

"You know what she means," Haruka sighed.

 "Haruka-chan!" Saki hissed.  "Come on!"

 Haruka cocked an eyebrow, an expression that said, _What?_  "You're the one who was worried about Mimi-chan."

Mimi looked from one girl to the other, not quite following the conversation.  "Because you seemed so down after summer break," Saki explained.  "You weren't quite yourself, but I didn't know how to ask about it."

Although her heart was heavy, Mimi smiled.  "We're friends.  You can ask me anything.  I was sad because a friend had to go far away, and I can't see her anymore."

"Someone moved?" Haruka asked.  "That stinks.  I'm sorry, Mimi-chan."

"Mm."  Mimi didn't like misleading her friends, but the Chosen had decided not to bring up the digimon outside of their families.  Besides, Mimi knew she couldn't explain without crying.  Telling people that a friend was out of reach was close enough.

"Are you going to send your friend one of your plants?" Saki asked. 

Mimi imagined giving Palmon a cactus in a decorated pot.  _She'd be so happy..._   A complex mix of emotions overtook her, and she found herself wiping an eye.

"I wish I could.  She'd like it."      

"Why can't you?" Haruka demanded.

"Haruka!” Saki cried.  “You can't easily ship plants from country to country.  There are laws about it."

"Oh..."  Haruka nibbled her lip, then released a long sigh.  "I guess your friend is really far away.  Sorry, Mimi-chan."

Mimi couldn't fight her sudden urge to see the sky.  She turned in her chair, observing the blue expanse gilding along the horizon.  Suddenly, the familiar Odaiba views were irritating, and she longed for an unbroken expanse of sky and lush vegetation.

Saki leaned in, placing a hand on Mimi's shoulder.  Her kind, mature aura reminded her of Sora, and suddenly, Mimi wished that her Chosen friend was with her.  "You can send a pot, though.  You can come to our club meetings as much as you want to work on them."

"T-thanks."  Mimi focused on her work for a time, hoping to calm down.  When she felt steadier, she said, "I've been kind of out of the loop, lately.  How are things with you two?"

She listened as the girls alternated between joking and bickering, grateful for their company.

**XXX**

"Tadaima," Mimi called as she entered her apartment.  Her mother poked her head into the hall from the kitchen, beaming.

"Okaeri, sweetie!"  She waved her spoon in greeting, then gasped as grains of rice rained from it.  Mimi removed her boots as her mother stooped to pick them up.  "How was your day?"

Mimi entered the kitchen, where the cooking rush was in full swing.  "It was good," Mimi said.  "I had fun at painting club."

"Oh!  May I see your pots?"

With an air of pride, Mimi lined the pots on the edge of the kitchen table.  Her mother put down her spoon and wiped her hands on her apron as she approached.

She inspected the pots with care, admiring each one.  "Oh, sweetie!  They're beautiful!  Aren't these the crests you told me about?"

Mimi's hands clasped with delight.  "You recognized them!"

"Of course!  Are these for your Chosen friends?"

"Yes!  Do you think they'll like them?"

"Oh, they'll love them!  You're so thoughtful, darling."

Mimi launched into a narrative about painting club, interspersed with random tidbits about the Chosen and Palmon.  While she chatted, she cut the fruits her mother placed in front of her.  They worked together seamlessly, with no break in Mimi's monologue, until her father returned from home.

"Okaeri, Papa!" mother and daughter cried in unison.  Mimi placed her knife down and ran into the hallway to hug her father.

"Oof!  Easy, Princess!"  He followed her into the kitchen, sticking to the perimeter of the space to avoid collisions with the bustling ladies.  While her father washed up, Mimi transferred the cut fruit to a serving plate.  Soon, they were eating fish, rice, and veggies with the signature Tachikawa embellishments of fruit, whipped cream, and candies.

As usual, the little family took turns discussing the day's events.  When Mimi finished her retelling, her father said, "And how are you doing these days, Princess?  We know how hard missing Palmon is for you."

Mimi smiled, hoping it was brighter than it felt.  "I'm okay, Papa.  It's still hard, but...  Well, it's easier with you and Mama and my friends to help me."

"Aww, sweetie," her mother sighed.  "It hurts so much to see you sad.  We're so glad that you've been smiling more lately."

Mimi didn't know how to respond, so she nodded and ate a strawberry.  The sweetness was so interesting against the salty zing of soy sauce.  She tried to focus on that instead of recalling a summer break of tears and distracting indulgences rained on her by her parents.  She had never visited Tokyo Disneyland and gone shopping so many times in her life.    

"Thank you for supporting me," she said at last.  "I don't know what I would have done without you and Sora-san.”  She scowled at her plate, struck with a sudden unpalatable thought.  “Even though the other Chosen don't want to talk about it."

"Everyone has their own way of coping," her father said.  "We'll do whatever we can to help you.  You know that.  But you can't force your friends to do anything before they're ready."

"I know," Mimi sighed.  "I don't _want_ to force it.  But...  It's been over two months.  I'm feeling a little better, so I thought maybe it would be time..."

Her mother tipped her head.  "Is that why you're giving them the pots?  Like an invitation?"

Mimi frowned.  The pot situation had snowballed from the sight of her first succulent pups, offshoots of the adult plants she had purchased.  She hadn't consciously intended them as a message, but now that her mother mentioned it...  Was sharing something among the Chosen a rallying call?

"I don't know," came her honest answer.  "I do want to see them all together again.  But most of all, I think...  I just wanted to see them smile."

Her father patted her hand.  “You’re a good girl, Princess.”

Mimi was unusually quiet for the rest of the meal and cleanup, but her parents didn’t press.  Although she often watched TV with them after dinner, Mimi retreated to her bedroom, four pink corners filled to the brim with stuffed toys, clothes, and little pots.  Sighing, Mimi placed her tote bag on the floor by her bed, then collapsed onto the comforter.

School, time with friends, dinners with her family.  After two months of stumbling around, lost and lonely, Mimi was finally starting to enjoy her normal life again.  But this heaviness, this sense that she had so much further to go before the day was through…  That was new. 

Mimi slapped her cheeks and sat up, determined to snap out of her funk.  She turned to the night stand beside her bed, where a cactus with two upturned arms was potted beside a framed picture from the Digital World.

“Hello, Toge-chan,” she said, scooting closer.  “I know you’re not big enough to need a new pot yet, but…  I made a special one for you today.”  She rolled towards the tote bag and dug out a specific pot, one larger than the others.  It was painted light green, with a teardrop design in dark green.  She placed the pot beside the cactus and inspected her work.  It wasn’t perfect- the two circles inside the bottom of the teardrop weren’t totally round or concentric- but she was proud of it.

“I’ll transfer you this weekend.  I’m giving all the Chosen their pots with a baby succulent in them.  I know it won’t remind them of their partners the same way you remind me of Togemon, but…  I still think they’ll like it.  And anyway, this gives me an excuse to see them!”    

Scowling, Mimi flopped onto her belly, cupping her face with her hands.  “They’re so stubborn!  Getting together and talking about it is _obviously_ the best thing to do, but they’re all so private about it.  I know we’re busy, and I know it hurts to think about the digimon and the Digital World…  But _not_ thinking about it is worse, don’t you think?”

As cute as the cactus was, it couldn’t answer her question.  “Well,” she said at last, “they say having plants around is good for your mood.  I know they make me feel better.”

That much decided, Mimi stood and moved to the opposite nightstand, where her collection of succulents was gathered.  With great deliberation and care, she selected the pups that would soon belong to her friends.

 **XXX**  

Taichi returned to his apartment after school, ignoring the concern in his mother's eyes as they followed him down the hallway.  He shut the bedroom door behind him and exhaled with relief.  Moving through crowds of bodies at school and on Odaiba's sidewalks was strangely lonely.  But making his family worry...  That was really starting to weigh on him.  His neck cracked as he rubbed his shoulders, shrugging off a discomfort that wasn't quite physical.

Taichi approached the glass door to his balcony, intending to close the curtains.  Although it was mid October, the temperature was mild.  _Perfect soccer weather..._

Unconsciously, he shifted his weight, loosening stiff muscles in his legs.  For the first few weeks after returning home, he felt like a slug, with no energy for or interest in anything.  His body felt tense and achy, like the rusted joints of a neglected robot. 

But for the first time, he thought of soccer club with a hint of wistfulness.  He wasn't sure if he felt like playing, but his muscles were begging for a workout, or at least a warm up.  _I can't just show up at practice for that, though..._  Scowling, he lifted his arms and stretched to the side, gasping at the tug of resistance above his hips.

"You okay?" a high-pitched, energetic voice called.  "You sound like an old man!"

Taichi leaped with surprise, scrambling for purchase on the landing.  He whirled around and found Mimi giggling in his doorway.  He hadn't seen her in weeks, but she looked as chipper and vibrant as ever.  She wore a pink sweater, a denim skirt, star-spangled leggings, and a star headband.  A pink tote bag was slung over her shoulder.

"Mimi-chan," Taichi sighed.  Mimi tsked and eased the bag onto his desk chair.

"Hello to you, too!  Is that how you greet me after so long?  You have some nerve after turning me down for a Chosen party!  And don't tell me you're too busy with soccer, I know you quit!  Sora-san told me."

Taichi blinked as the rapid-fire scolding walloped him like an ocean wave that he hadn't seen coming.  Mimi crossed her arms and swung a hip out, the very picture of young girl irritation. 

Taichi stared as the scolding continued, waiting in vain for a comeback to occur to him.  Mimi's piques of temper were annoying; at least, that's how he remembered them.  So why did he suddenly feel so at home?

"Sorry, Mimi-chan," he said, cutting her off at last.  "How are you doing?" 

Mimi's crossed arms slackened as her rant trailed off.  "…That's better.  I'm doing okay.  I mean, you know, it's awful missing Palmon and the others.  But...  I'll be okay."

The pause that followed indicated that he was supposed to talk about himself.  Taichi took a seat on Hikari's bed and cast about for a way to avoid responding.  "Uh, what have you been up to?"

Mimi pulled out Hikari's desk chair and sat.  "Normal stuff," she said, shrugging.  "School, homework.  I try to spend a lot of time with my family and friends, so I won't get lonely.  I've been raising cacti and succulents, too."  

Taichi bit his lip as memories forced their way to the fore of his mind.  He saw Togemon towering above him, a living wall of needles.  Familiar, nagging questions popped into his head: Was Togemon hollow inside?  If someone put a light in her mouth, would she resemble a huge, green jack-o-lantern?  And did she have hands inside those gloves, or were her limbs rounded out, like an actual cactus?

“Yeah?  That’s cool.”  He couldn’t help feeling a little envious of Mimi, since he couldn’t buy a miniature orange dinosaur to remind him of Agumon.  _Especially not a live one_ _…  That would be freaking sweet, though…_

Mimi clapped her hands.  “I’m glad you think so!  I have a present for you and Hikari-chan!”  Bouncing over to her tote bag, she called, “Where is she, anyway?”

“Photography club.”  Taichi eyed the bag warily.  The Tachikawa family had… unusual culinary tastes.  Whatever Mimi brought, he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t be expected to eat it in front of her.

She pulled out two potted succulents, and Taichi smothered a relieved sigh.  “Too bad,” Mimi said.  “I’d like to see her.”  She placed the pink pot on Hikari’s end of the desk, then approached with an orange one.  She was smiling, all warmth and happy expectation.  She had no idea that something had seized in Taichi’s gut.

She handed him the pot, and Taichi stared at the crest of courage painted in the middle.  He told himself to thank her, to act happy, but he couldn’t summon the strength.  Mimi hovered over him, and he expected her scolding to restart at any second.

Instead, she sat beside him on Hikari’s bed.  “Taichi-san?  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly.  “You made these by hand?  For everyone?”

A soft smile touched her lips, but didn’t lift her cheeks or brighten her eyes.  Taichi stared, unused to half-measures or half-truths from Mimi.  “Yeah.  And it would have been a lot easier to give them out if we had a party!”

Taichi frowned.  “Sora told you about that.”

Mimi waved a hand impatiently.  “Even if she hadn’t, I would have brought it up.  It’s been over two months!  We _need_ to see each other!”

Taichi inched back.  “You can meet up with the others any time you want.”

Mimi’s hand landed on his shoulder with surprising strength.  “It has to be all of us.  Don’t you miss everyone?”

Taichi bent forward, gazing at the carpet through his knees.  “Yeah,” he admitted.  “Yeah.  But… I don’t know.”  Discussing serious subjects with Mimi felt odd.  In the Digital World, they often coddled her, taking breaks when she insisted and making camp for the night when she could go no further.  He was used to dialing back to accommodate her and making decisions with Sora, Koushiro, and Yamato. 

But when he looked at her now…  Here she was, friendly and happy, but unafraid to let her struggles show, to accept help.  Here she was, making the rounds to distribute handmade presents to each Chosen.  Here she was, stepping into his world because he wouldn’t meet her outside of it.

“Maybe I’m being stupid,” he said, admitting that whispered fear out loud.  “Except for Takeru, we all live in Odaiba.  We can get together whenever, but…  It feels like…  If we get together again and the digimon aren’t there…”

The painted crest of courage consumed his focus.  Frankly, it was a little wonky-looking, but that somehow suited his mood.  “Are we still the Chosen?” he asked, speaking to the symbol he no longer physically possessed.

“Of course we are!”  Taichi twitched and turned to the girl beside him, caught off guard by the passion in her voice.  “You have your digivice, right?  You have your photo?”

“Well, yeah.  But those… they’re not Agumon.”

“I _know_ that.”  Her honey-colored eyes rolled in an impatient arc.  “But if you have them- the digivice that evolves him and your memories together- then you’ll meet again.”

Taichi suppressed a sigh.  He had spent entire nights making assurances like that to himself.  Their comforting power, however faint, had long worn out.  “I guess,” he muttered.

“You _guess_!  Taichi-san!  Do you think out partners are gonna forget about us?”

His hand twitched towards his chest, a response to the stab of pain there.  “No,” he snapped.  “Of course not.  But they can’t do anything about our worlds connecting or not connecting or whatever.  That was all… some kind of higher power?”  Taichi was thinking of Homeostasis, the spirit that possessed Hikari and told the Chosen a little about their role and history.  But he never quite understood all of the details, and was edging towards areas that would be better handled by Koushiro.

Mimi stood, hands clenched at her sides.  “Well, I’m not gonna hide and wait for them to come back!  I can’t ask her, but I know what Palmon would want.  She wants me to be happy and live a good life while we’re apart.  And then, when we meet again, I can tell her about all the fun I’ve had, and she, she’ll say, ‘That’s great, Mimi!’”

Her words spaced out more and more as her breathing grew uneven and liquid pooled in her eyes.  “Mimi-chan,” Taichi murmured.  “Are you okay?”

She inhaled slowly, rubbing her face with her hands.  “I just think…  When I picture our digimon in the Digital World, I don’t like the idea of them being alone.  I think they’re hanging out together, don’t you?  Or maybe with some of the friends we made?  Or maybe they made brand new friends.  I know people and digimon need some time alone, but…  My hope for Palmon is that she’s having fun with other digimon while we’re apart, and she’ll have lots to tell me when we meet.”

Taichi rubbed the back of his neck.  What would he be able to tell Agumon if they met tonight?  _Oh, me?  I_ _’ve spent the last few months avoiding everyone and everything.  It was great.  How about you?_

Suddenly, he realized that Mimi was no longer the teammate who slowed everyone’s pace.  And maybe she never was- maybe she was the voice that reminded all of them that they were children, that no matter how scary and dangerous things were, they still had to rest, to eat, to attend to their feelings.  He had an abrupt, intense urge to apologize to Mimi for something he couldn’t articulate.

Instead, he exhaled and asked, “How are you doing it?”

Mimi’s head tipped.  “H-huh?  Doing what?”

“You know!”  Taichi waved a hand, a pointless gesture.  “Getting out there.  Meeting up with people.  Acting like you did… before.”

Mimi stared at him for a long moment, her expression strangely unreadable.  Finally, she lifted a hand to her chin, a gesture that reminded Taichi of Koushiro.  A tiny grin touched his cheeks.  _Now there_ _’s a comparison._

“It’s not like I had a plan.  And it was so awful at first!  I cried and cried in my room, but Mama and Papa spent so much time with me.  I started telling them about the Digital World and how much I miss Palmon.”

Taichi edged back, half startled, half wary.  He wasn’t surprised by the crying bit, but he couldn’t imagine telling his parents about the Digital World.  His account had been cut-and-dry: we got sucked into another world at summer camp, we have evolving digimon partners, we fought a lot of evil digimon, Agumon is the man, we came back.  His parents asked questions sometimes, and he answered, but he didn’t provide more detail than was necessary.  For one thing, he’d need a few weeks to tell the whole story.  For another, there were lots of parts that he didn’t _want_ to share now- and maybe not ever.

“Did they… get it?”  Even to his own ears, Taichi’s voice was heavy with incredulity.  Mimi scratched the side of her head, looking flummoxed.

“Yeah.  I mean, a lot happened, and some of it doesn’t even make sense to me, so maybe they didn’t get all of it?  But they listened.”

Taichi was under the impression that most of the Chosen had tried to hide their partners when they came to earth, but they couldn’t conceal them for long.  It had made sense at the time- anyone would freak out if they found an orange dinosaur on their couch- but he wasn’t sure why that urge to keep the Digital World quiet from his parents lingered.  He nodded, accepting Mimi’s story and unsure of what to add.

“So they knew I was sad.  Mama and Papa were so nice!  They bought me presents and took me out and cooked my favorite foods.  And when I started feeling better, I visited my friends.  I missed them so much while we were gone!”

“You didn’t tell them about the Digital World, did you?”  Because of Vamdemon’s siege of Odaiba, plenty of people knew about digimon.  Still, it was better to contain information about their involvement.  The last thing they needed was to be interrogated by the government or researchers.  And what if someone tried to make the Chosen responsible for property damage?  Taichi’s lip twitched as he visualized Wargreymon ripping the sphere off of the Fuji TV Station during battle.

Mimi slammed her hands on her hips.  “No!  Which was hard, because they could tell I was sad and wanted to know why.  They were extra nice to me, and I’ve been meeting up with Sora-san a lot, and Jyou-senpai when he can spare time from studying.  I was just at his apartment mansion.  I dropped off plants for him, Eimi-chan, and Koushiro-kun.  They all seem like me, you know.  Hurting, but trying hard.  Koushiro-kun looked tired, though!  Eimi-chan and I scolded him to rest and take care!”

Though he managed a weak grin as he pictured the two girls ganging up on Koushiro, Taichi felt oddly guilty, and a little frightened.  He had seen most of the Chosen since they returned to earth, and with each visit, the more obvious it grew that he was being left behind while the others moved forward.  And, for once, he didn’t see rejoining his world as abandoning the Digital World.  He was beginning to see it as strength.

His hands clenched around the pot.  Although he couldn’t imagine spilling his guts to his parents or anyone else the way Mimi described, maybe talking to someone would help.  And who better than the other Chosen?

Taichi stood, passed Mimi, and sat his plant on his desk.  “Maybe we _should_ get together…”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Mimi, but he heard her delighted gasp and knew the face that went along with it.  “You’ll go?!” she cried.  “That’s great!  You don’t have to do anything, just show up!  I’ll plan it!  Maybe it can be at my apartment!  Or anywhere, it doesn’t matter!  I just want to see everyone again!  Ohhhh, I can bake treats and make invitations-”

Taichi smiled as Mimi’s excited chatter filled his room.  He already felt a little better at the thought of seeing everyone again, but he couldn’t explain the accompanying rush of anxiety.  He told himself that it was just a meeting between friends, but that was no help.  If it were that simple, he would have gone along with it a long time ago.

 _Man, when did I start over-thinking everything?  Agumon would be all over a party, especially if there_ _’s food._

His head jerked up as his shoulders stiffened.  “Er, Mimi-chan?  Did you say you’d cook for this party?”

“Yeah!”  Mimi beamed so brightly that Taichi was tempted to squint to protect his eyes.  His stomach sank as she rattled off possibilities for her menu.

“Uh-  M-maybe you should talk to Yamato.  He can cook.  Sora, too.  I, uh, I wonder if Eimi knows how to cook?”

She waved a hand carelessly.  “Oh, don’t worry!  We’ll think of lots of good things to eat!  In fact, I’m going to see Sora-san and Yamato-san next, so I’ll ask them!”  With that, she spun around and picked up her tote bag.  “I should get moving!”

“Sure.”  Although he felt pent up before Mimi entered, Taichi was drained beyond belief now.  _Mimi-chan is really something_ _…_

“Bye bye!  Say hi to Hikari-chan for me!  And cheer up, okay?”  Mimi smiled, waved, and stepped towards the door.

“Yeah,” Taichi grunted.  With supreme effort,he pulled himself together enough to add, “Thanks for the plants.”

“You’re welcome!” 

Taichi squeezed his eyes shut and reached deep, trying to tap the well of energy that once seemed endless.  He found just enough to say, “Mimi-chan?”

She paused in the doorway.  “Hm?”

He tried for that old, effortless grin.  He didn’t quite manage it, but he did at least produce something honest, something open.  “Thanks for visiting.”

A sweet, bright smile lit her face, the expression that won so many digimon over to their side.  “Any time, Taichi-san.”

 

 **Author** **’s Notes:**  I don’t think I understood Mimi as a kid.  She seemed so whiny and spoiled (especially in the English dub), and to be fair…  She was!  She is.  But her heart is so open, so willing to connect with other hearts, to help and be helped.  I like to think that this is what’s honored by her crest of purity. 

Let’s see, I believe _Our Light_ is next.  Please remember to review!


	8. Our Light

****

 

**After August**

_Our Light (Chapter 8 of 10)_

Hikari walked Odaiba’s sidewalks as the dregs of daylight faded.  These early sunsets ushered in the cold, and she shivered and adjusted her scarf. 

She had visited a friend after photography club, and it was almost dinnertime.  The streets were crowded, so she followed the tide of pedestrians towards her apartment.  When the pack stopped at a don’t walk signal, the lights of a corner convenience store caught her eye.

Posters on the windows announced limited edition Halloween candy.  The noise of the crowd and the traffic faded as Hikari stared at gummy ghosts, bats, and vampire teeth.  Her head whipped back to the crosswalk signal so hard that her scarf came undone.  She balled it in her shaking fists, unable to restyle it.

She wanted to run, but was forced to wait for the light and move at the pace of the crowd.  The night was clear, but Hikari saw fog rolling down the streets from Tokyo Bay.  Her legs moved faster, faster, then came to a sudden halt.

Hikari blinked.  She had passed the turn that would lead her home, and now…  Now she stood where Phantomon fought Sora and Yamato before she offered herself as the eighth child.  She didn’t notice the pedestrians breaking and reforming around her.  All she could see was Yamato pulling at the chain around his neck, gasping for air as Phantomon’s scythe lowered.  Then, the scene shifted, and she had an aerial view of the street as Phantomon carried her away from her friends.

She turned and ran, shoving herself against the tide of people.

**XXX**  

The body remembers.

Hikari’s brain provided little help on her frantic trip home.  Her feet carried her, with no conscious input, to her apartment, and her hands faithfully worked the lock on the Yagami front door.  Light from the living room poured through the portal, blinding her.  She almost panicked, but the smell of home reassured her.

“Uh, Hikari?”  Her head swiveled, seeking the owner of that well-known voice.  Taichi was half standing, butt hovering over the couch, staring at her with an expression that was equal parts rapt and baffled.

The body knows.  Taichi was here.  She was _safe_.

Hikari stepped into the genkan and shut the door, barring the fog only she could see.  When she turned, Taichi was standing over her.  Her arms wrapped around him of their own accord.

“Hikari?  What’s wrong?”

How could she explain?  The security of being home was only beginning to thaw the panic that had frozen her mind.  She looked up at her brother, trying to say with her face what she couldn’t with words, but that only made his brow crease more. 

“C’mon.  Let’s sit.  You look like you saw a ghost.”

Hikari allowed him to lead her to the couch.  He pressed on her shoulders, guiding her to the spot he had been warming.  Miko leaped onto her lap, and Hikari smiled reflexively.  Taichi sat beside her, and she leaned into him.

“So?” he prompted.  Hikari blinked, finally shaking off her daze.

“Um…”  Taichi was trying to look nonchalant, but Hikari knew he was worried.  She nibbled her lower lip.  The truth would upset him.  Was it kinder to make something up?

But the fear that had caused her to blindly flee, shoving through the crowds, still lingered.  Taichi already knew it was there, even if he didn’t know why.  She was sure he’d catch her if she lied, especially when she was still shaken.

“I was walking home,” she started.  That was the easy part. 

He nodded, prompting her to continue.  Swallowing a sigh, she said, “I saw ads for Halloween candy.  There were… Ghosts.  Bats.  Um… vampires.”

Taichi grimaced and looked away.  “Ugh.  I bet that crap is selling better than ever this year, after what happened in August.”

Hikari didn’t comment.  She knew from news reports of sudden mass anemia that Vamdemon had bitten people while he was in Odaiba.  Wouldn’t that make people _less_ likely to want vampire imagery around?  After all the fear she had endured, she didn’t understand that people enjoyed a good scare, especially when delivered from a distance.

“Then I started running,” she continued.  “And then…  And then I was where…  Where Phantomon found me.  And then…  I was here?”

Taichi reconsidered whatever he almost said, but Hikari saw his jaw clench and grind.  If she told the story better, Taichi might not worry so much, but what could she do?  The run home was a gap in her memory, wiped blank by terror.  The last time she forgot so completely…

“Is that weird?”  She looked up at Taichi, desperate for his answer. 

Hikari tried to tell herself that she was safe on earth, that whatever had possessed her in the Digital World couldn’t reach her here.  But when she zoned out, and sometimes, while she drifted to sleep, she wondered…  Could Homeostasis still take over her?  Could the strange powers in the Digital World see earth through her eyes?

Could other things, too?

She shuddered, and Taichi threw an arm around her shoulders.  “It’s not weird.  I get it.  All of us would.”

Hikari sagged into him, weak with relief.  “Then what happened?”

“You got scared.  PTSD.  That place reminded you of something bad, and the emotions came back.”  After a pause that seemed oddly careful, he asked, “Has this happened to you before?”

Hikari’s hands moved down Miko’s fur, searching for comfort.  She had never panicked like this before, but then…  She had always come home before dark.  But now that the sun was setting earlier, Odaiba seemed more frightening, closer to those muggy streets filled with fog that obscured Vamdemon’s forces.

“No,” she said at last.  But now that she thought about it, had she been choosing routes to avoid certain spots?

She knew without looking that her brother was watching, weighing her words.  After all, she did the same to him whenever he seemed especially down, at least after August.  She almost forced a smile to reassure him, but his fronts never fooled her.  “Maybe it’s because it was dark,” she offered.

“Hmm…  If it ever happens again, call me.  It doesn’t have to be the exact same thing.  If you’re scared, call.  I’ll come get you.”

Guilt set in before he even finished speaking.  “That’s too much trouble-” 

Taichi cut her off with a loud tsk.  “A lot of stuff happened, and-  Just call, okay?  I’ll come.”

Hikari hesitated.  Taichi had so much on his mind already; she probably knew better than anyone that he still struggled with being cut off from the Digital World.  She wanted to be able to take care of herself, so that she didn’t burden anyone.  And yet…  The more she pulled away from Taichi and hid her feelings, the more distressed he became.

“Okay.”  That single word, that acceptance, made her feel much better.  Taichi wasn’t invincible, wasn’t the fearless, laid back guy that many kids perceived.  Hikari saw the strain that he hid from the world, sometimes by taking shelter in his room, and sometimes with a fake smile and bravado.  Still, knowing that he would support her was a huge comfort.  The fact that he did so many amazing things when he carried just as much fear and doubt as anyone else made him stronger in her eyes.

She slid away from Taichi and turned on the TV, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.  But even with a cartoon running, a heaviness remained.  Hikari turned to a thought game that she often used to cheer herself up.

“Hey, Onii-chan?”

His head jerked towards her.  “Yeah?”

“What do you think they’re doing right now?”

He blinked, but didn’t ask for an explanation.  Sighing, he flopped against the back of the couch.  “My best guess?  They’re thinking of us.”

“I think so, too.”

The siblings shared fragile smiles.  Hikari searched his face, wondering if they would finally talk about the Digital World-  Really talk about it, not just a reference here, an ‘it-will-be-okay’ there.  There were times when the topic hung between them with an almost physical weight, but so far, something made them avoid it.  At first, it was pain.  Now…  Now, Hikari thought that they both wanted to feel better, but weren’t sure how to make it happen.

“You know,” Taichi began, staring hard at the television. 

Footsteps sounded outside of the apartment, and both siblings turned to the front door.  Taichi sighed and rose.  “Mom went shopping for groceries for dinner.”

Sure enough, Yuuko opened the door with one hand, balancing a load of bags in the other.  Her brother jogged to help her, and Hikari followed.

Hours later, she still wasn’t sure if she was relieved or sorry that their conversation never happened.

**XXX**

Taichi looked up and stared when Hikari walked into their bedroom.  It was a normal occurrence, but the timing was wrong.  Her photography club meeting had at least an hour left.

Cocking an eyebrow, he said, “Uh, welcome back?”

Hikari ignored him and sat on her bed.  A glint of light caught Taichi’s eye, and he squinted at an object protruding from her fist.  Taichi placed his pencil on his workbook and turned the desk chair towards her.  “Was there nothing good to take pictures of?”

His lame joke caused no reaction, sending his mounting concern into orbit.  “I didn’t feel well,” she said at last.

“Headache?” Taichi guessed.  “Want some aspirin?”

Her mouth opened, shut, then dipped into a pained frown.  She extended a hand to him.  “My friend gave me this.”

Baffled, Taichi rolled towards her.  A key chain sat on her palm, reflecting the light of the setting sun.  The ring was attached to a white plush cat, Hikari’s favorite mascot, even before the Digital World.  The little doll was dressed as a wizard, complete with a pointed hat and a staff.

Taichi swallowed a groan.  Key chains, white cats, wizards… Hikari’s unfortunate friend had achieved a perfect trifecta of triggering objects rolled into one gift. 

“I’m sorry,” Taichi murmured.  What else could he say?  Thinking of Agumon was a pleasure, a warm glow in his heart.  But even at the best of times, it caused a twinge of loneliness. 

Hikari’s shoulders began to shake, but he didn’t realize she was crying until a droplet splashed onto her lap.  He stood so quickly that the chair rolled backwards.  “H-Hikari-”

The words ‘don’t cry’ almost slid free, but something kept them barred.  Taichi stood over his sister, hesitating, beating down the instinctive panic caused by watching someone cry.  Seeing people lose control was awkward, but more pressingly, he wanted his loved ones to be happy.  Still, telling Hikari how to handle the pain of being separated from Tailmon… he just couldn’t do it.

Taichi sat beside her on her bed.  He had heard other kids, and even adults, talk about how perfect Hikari was, always smiling, never complaining or causing problems.  But no one was perfect, not even his good-natured sister.  The smiles that didn’t brighten her eyes were fronts, a mask that served different purposes at different times.  And, every once in a while, she couldn’t even muster the strength to wear the mask.

How could he convince her that it was okay to show pain?

“I’m s-sorry,” Hikari choked. 

His eyes began to burn, perhaps in sympathy with hers.  “Don’t be.  You’re allowed to be sad.  You’re allowed to feel whatever the heck you’re feeling, and you’re allowed to show it.”

A sob shuddered over her, and Taichi threw an arm over her shoulders.  She leaned into him and fell apart, cupping the key chain with both hands.  He waited, trying to ignore his pain and focus on her.

After what seemed like forever, Hikari straightened and wiped her eyes.  “Y-you’re allowed to feel things, too,” she murmured.

Taichi eased away and hoped that his surprise wasn’t obvious.  With effort, he ignored the urge to react defensively.  If he was going to help Hikari, he had to listen and think.

“I… guess you’re right.”  A large part of him wanted to pat her on the back and escape.  But a smaller part, some portion of his heart that had been hibernating, slowly rising over time, wanted to be the Child of Courage again.  And so, he stood, grabbed the tissue box from their desk, and offered it to Hikari.  “How do you feel?”

She pulled out a sheet and wiped her face.  “I miss Tailmon.  Wizardmon, too.”

Taichi had to clear his throat before he could respond.  “Yeah.  But, like…  How are you doing?”

Hikari’s head tipped to the side.  “Um, alright?  It’s hard, but…”  She trailed off, and Taichi tried not to focus on how red and puffy her eyes were.  “I have you and Mom and Dad.  I have my friends in photography club.  So…  I’m okay.”

Her lips curled up into a trembling grin.  Taichi swallowed the protest clawing up his throat and gently took hold of her cheeks.  “Don’t give me that fake smile,” he said.  “I _know_ you’re struggling.  I know you’re meeting your friends all the time to keep busy.  You can tell other people that you’re fine, but you can’t fool me.”

Her eyes widened, and their red-brown color mixed with those inflamed lids made her resemble a stunned rabbit.  That combined with her stretched-out cheeks forced a weak laugh from Taichi.  “Look,” he began, releasing her.  “I guess…  I dunno.  I think I’ve had enough of fronts and wallowing.”

He scowled as he dug around for the right words.  “Let’s just… talk?  If you’re up for it.  I wanna know how you’re doing.  For real, I mean.”

She stared at him, then turned her gaze to her lap.  “I really am okay.”

He wanted to argue, but Taichi knew from experience that being backed into a vulnerable discussion was unpleasant.  “You do seem like you’re keeping your head up,” he offered.  “To be honest, I’ve been jealous.  You kept it together much better than I did.”

Did Hikari realize how much it cost him to admit that?  She continued staring at the floor, so Taichi had no way of gauging her thoughts.  “I don’t know how you do it,” she muttered.

“Huh?”  He was tempted to point her face at him, just to figure out whatever the heck she was thinking.  “You’re the one going out and doing things.”

Her shoulders rose and fell in a quick shrug.  “It’s easier when I’m busy and with people.  I miss Tailmon most when I’m alone.  So I wonder…  how do you spend so much time alone?  Isn’t it hard?”

“Uh…”  What was he supposed to say?  Taichi wasn’t sure he possessed enough self-awareness to respond, let alone the necessary language.  He scratched his head through a thick barrier of hair.  “Er…  I guess I see how keeping busy could help, but…  It felt like I couldn’t…  Like going out and acting like I used to was too…  Like I couldn’t do it.  And like I didn’t want to.”

She didn’t respond, but her hands tightened around the key chain.  Taichi babbled, a frantic attempt to shift attention away from him and onto helping her.  “I’m doing better lately.  But I have been wondering…  Are you wearing yourself out?  Like, if you always run from thinking about Tailmon, eventually, you’ll run out of breath.”

The words came faster than his thoughts, causing a collision of impressions and ideas.  _Had_ Hikari worn herself out since August?  At first, he assumed that her panic attack was caused by Halloween imagery and earlier nightfall.  But what if her constant activity had finally exhausted her, leaving her more vulnerable than ever?

Suddenly, he wished their bedroom had a mirror.  While Hikari ran to escape a problem lodged in her heart, he had lived inside the ache, mired in the expansion and constriction of four agonized chambers.  After almost three months without physical activity, the muscle and fitness he gained in the Digital World had faded, along with his tan.  More parts of him had been stripped away than he anticipated.

Hikari’s coping method looked healthier on the outside, but what if she had lost parts of herself, too?  Things that people couldn’t see.  And if they couldn’t see them, then they didn’t know that she needed help.  The Chosen had visited him, pestered him, practically bullied him into talking to them and venting.  But when the Chosen saw Hikari’s calm smile, they probably assumed that she was fine.

Taichi wondered if Hikari really _was_ coping better than him.  And if she was hurting on the inside and smiling on the outside, then what about Sora and the others?

His hand closed around Hikari’s far shoulder, an attempt to ground himself while his head spun.  _All this time, I thought I was weak and they were strong.  And they are strong, but_ _…  What’s going on with them that I can’t see?_

“But what should I do?  If keeping busy is no good, then…”

Taichi dragged his focus onto the present.  “I’m not saying that you’re doing it wrong.  I think everyone copes differently.  But…  I do wish you would tell me how you’re feeling.  Let me worry about you a little.”

Her crooked smile cheered him up, if only a bit.  “A _little_?”

“You don’t have to keep score,” he muttered.  “But seriously.  Is there anything you wanna talk about?”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared up at him.  Taichi tried to keep his grin in place, but it was hard to withstand her inspection with composure.  He almost expected her to whip out a clipboard and start checking things off.  “You usually don’t like this kind of thing,” she hedged.

Taichi sighed theatrically.  “Yeah, yeah.  Humor me?”

“Hmm…”  Hikari ran a thumb over the plush cat.  “Most days, I feel okay.  I _know_ that I’ll see Tailmon again, so I think I should do my best until then.  But there are times when missing her hurts so much.  And sometimes, I think about Wizardmon…”

_Yikes._ Taichi patted her shoulder.  Most of the digimon friends they lost during their adventures would be reborn in the Primary Village.  However, it seemed that digimon who died outside of the Digital World couldn’t be reborn.  Wizardmon died on earth to protect Hikari and Tailmon.  Did Hikari feel guilty on top of bereaved?

“And sometimes, I wonder…  Onii-chan.  Do you think Homeostasis can take over me from earth?”

Taichi twitched so hard that Hikari swayed with the movement.  The memory of looking at his sister’s face and seeing a stranger caused instant anxiety.  “N-no,” he stammered, but it was more of a reaction than a response.

Hikari nodded.  “I don’t think so.  Homeostasis is some kind of Digital World being, right?  It shouldn’t be able to come here.”

_We were able to go there, though.  And the digimon came here._ He wasn’t about to say that to Hikari, so he agreed and made a mental note to repeat the question to Koushiro.

After a pause, Hikari poked his knee.  “What about you?”

“Huh?”  Taichi ignored the urge to shake his head.  Thoughts and worries swirled inside it, fighting for processing power. 

“How do you feel?”

“Oh.”  Taichi shrugged.  “Okay, I guess.”

He edged away when Hikari frowned up at him.  “No fair!  I told you how I feel!”

_That_ _’s different._ Thankfully, Taichi kept that thought to himself.  The last thing Hikari needed was to worry about someone else, but then…  Well, knowing her, she already was worried.  Something twisted in his stomach when he remembered the concerned looks from his parents, the visits and questions from his friends. 

Ever since the first day he spent alone in his room, Taichi knew that he’d have to step up eventually.  At first, school pulled him back into the world.  But now…  Now, his head had cleared enough to see that he wasn’t the only one in pain.  And though he still didn’t feel like the kid who led the Chosen, he sometimes caught himself thinking like him.

“I think you know how I feel,” he said at last.  “It hurts.  It’s lonely.  Most days, I don’t want to go to school and be around people.”

She turned huge, hurt eyes to his, and Taichi swallowed hard.  “But…  I’m starting to realize that I don’t want to go on like this.  And I can’t help wondering how the others are doing.”

“The Chosen?” Hikari asked.  “Yeah…  I miss them.  I hope everyone is okay.”

Taichi grinned and ruffled her hair.  “There’s no reason why we can’t find out.  Sora mentioned wanting to have a party with the Chosen.  Would you like that?”

Hikari froze in the middle of prying his hand off her head.  Her eyes lit up in a way he hadn’t seen in ages.  “Really?  That would be great!”

Taichi hopped to his feet, energized by his sister’s enthusiasm.  “Alright!  I think we’ll feel better if we all know that everyone’s doing okay.  Do you wanna call Sora with me?”

“Okay!” 

Taichi led her to the phone in the hallway, only half listening to her chatter about the party.  He was focused on the way it felt to make her happy, and to think of the others instead of dwelling on his pain.  He wasn’t sure if he could develop her absolute certainty that they would meet the digimon again, or her strength to concentrate on what helped her cope.

All he knew was that he wanted to see his friends, and try to offer the support they had given him.  It wasn’t as good as seeing the digimon again, but for now, somehow, it seemed like enough.   

 

**Author** **’s Notes:**   Happy Odaiba Day!

I’ve been stuck on Hikari’s chapter for so long…  I finally decided to just post what I have, even if I’m not pleased with it.  A finished story with one clunky chapter is better than an unfinished story, right? 

Poor Hikari…  Between her comparatively short screen time and her confusing crest, I never know what to do with her in stories set in Adventure.  I love writing adult Hikari (I have freedom to add to the Adventure base), though!

Anyway, happy 20th anniversary, Chosen!  I love you guys!


	9. Our Friendship

****

[Soundtrack: Shame on the Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vABtNXuNZt8), Dio

 

**After August**

_Our Friendship (Chapter 9 of 10)_

When Yamato left for school this morning, his father was already gone.  He returned to an empty apartment, cooked and ate alone, cleaned up, and started his homework in his room.  Scowling, Yamato dropped his pencil and leaned back in his chair.  The quiet was intense, endless, absolute.  It was to the ears as utter darkness is to the eyes: a fearsome void.

He drummed his fingers against the desk, needing the noise.  He considered moving to the living room and turning on the TV or stereo, but the thought made him tense.  Living rooms were supposed to be shared spaces, gathering places.  His bedroom already felt huge.  The main apartment area was like a cavern.

The image made him shudder.  The four walls surrounding him seemed to darken.  Yamato exclaimed, slammed his hands on the desk, and pushed himself to his feet.  Could the dark cave suck him in on earth?

 _Gabumon's not here to help me.  No one is._   Yamato's breathing was labored, lungs straining for air.  He collapsed on his bed, bent over, and cradled his head in his hands.

Seconds passed, and nothing happened.  Somewhat reassured, Yamato straightened.  His eyes landed on the framed picture on the edge of his desk.  He focused on Gabumon as his heartbeat slowed back to normal.

Sighing, Yamato lifted the picture and pulled it in.  When he was upset in the Digital World, Gabumon sometimes asked him to play the harmonica.  Somehow, his digimon knew that making music was an outlet for Yamato, a way to siphon off his emotions.

 _I guess I_ was _thinking that it's too quiet..._  Yamato sat the picture down, then leaned forward to open a desk drawer.  His harmonica was stored there in its case, the spot where it remained now, safe from being lost or damaged.

Yamato grabbed the instrument and spent a moment appreciating the tactile sensations of cool metal and sliding his fingers over the square openings in the comb.  He lay down on his bed, closed his eyes, and lifted the harmonica to his mouth.

Although he already had a song in mind, he warmed up with a few scales, inhaling and exhaling to hit every note, blocking airflow to unwanted chambers with his tongue.  Giving each part of the instrument its due was meditation for his troubled heart.

And after his breath warmed each chamber and every note sang, he began to play Gabumon's favorite song. 

 **XXX**  

Yamato stood by the stereo in his apartment’s living room, flipping through his father’s CDs.  Hiroaki could talk his ear off about the differences between classic rock, hard rock, metal, and genres Yamato hadn’t heard of.  At first, Yamato teased his father and ignored his lectures.  But lately, he found himself absorbing the words and noticing the subtleties that Hiroaki enjoyed.

He turned another page in the book of CDs and scowled.  CDs were more convenient than records, so he generally preferred them.  But Hiroaki insisted that vinyl sounded different, and he didn’t have CD versions of his older albums.  Yamato sensed that whatever sound he needed today wasn’t among these discs.

Happily, Hiroaki kept his record collection on display.  Square footage was precious in a Japanese apartment, but the turntable had its own console, complete with storage for records and the speaker.  Yamato sat on the floor in front of the records, which were cataloged by Hiroaki’s nebulous system.  He slid them out one at a time, keeping the far end of each sleeve in place. 

Despite their age, the sleeves and records were in great condition.  Yamato admired each one, absorbing the cover art.  Even as a young child, the records had fascinated him.  The art was often colorful and surreal, and the metal illustrations appealed to a boy whose heart helped Gabumon evolve into a werewolf with brass knuckles.  

After a while, he found a sleeve featuring a demon towering over a jagged mountain range.  The body was a man’s, but the giant wore a horned skull on its head.  Red light poured through the vacant eye sockets.  His raised arm touched swirling clouds and brandished a heavy chain that dropped to the churning sea lapping the mountains.  In the foreground, a man in the garb of a Catholic priest stared up at the demon.  His body was chained, damning him to the merciless sea.

Yamato slid the record free and carefully loaded it onto the turntable.  Using the cueing lever, he positioned the needle towards the outer edge of the disc.  Trying to play a specific song on a record was tricky business, and he knew better than to repeatedly move the needle on his father’s prized vinyl, so he sat on the armchair closest to the console and waited for the song he wanted.

At last, the song before it ended, and there was a brief pause.  He couldn’t help himself; Yamato reached over and twisted the knob on the speaker, raising the volume.  He closed his eyes, and the silvery howl of a wolf filled his ears and shivered over his senses.  The electric guitar followed, connecting the wild sound of nature to the wild sound of man.

_Shame on the night_

_For places I've been_

_And what I've seen_

_For giving me the strangest dreams_

_But you never really know just what they mean_

_Oh so shame on the night_

Images flit through his mind, some fragments of the Digital World, some pieces from his past, and some his own invention.  Although Dio’s vocals and the electric guitar were masterful, the bass guitar pulled at him.  The drums set the pace, but that low, moody thrum was the backbone of the song.  The other sounds seemed to branch off of it, like ribs curving away from a spine.  When he heard that deep, steady beat, it was like he was riding on Garurumon’s back, feeling the jolt of each powerful step and the rhythmic pull of the digimon’s breathing.

He had always liked metal, but ever since the Digital World, these songs spoke to him more than ever.  They seemed to acknowledge the horrors he had encountered, which helped ground him, reassuring him that his memory was accurate.  But through the energy, passion, and vitality of song, that fear and pain morphed to power and growth.

When the song ended and all was quiet, Yamato was calmer, revitalized.  With care, he reset the needle, playing the album from the beginning.  As the first song began, the apartment’s front door opened, and Hiroaki entered.

“Tadaima,” he called.  He paused and tipped his head.  “Is that Holy Diver?  Nice.”

“Hey, Dad.  Okaeri.”  Yamato’s smile of greeting quickly soured.  His father’s shoulders were slumped, as if his upper body was too heavy to carry.  “Dinner’s in the fridge.  Do you want me to heat it up?”

His father waved a hand.  “Stay there.  I can’t make you do every damned thing.”  Sighing, he dropped his coat on the couch and continued to the kitchen.  “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately.  The Vamdemon cover up is a nightmare.”

Yamato jerked upright.  “Yeah?”

Hiroaki opened the fridge and leaned forward.  “I know you kids weren’t thinking about it at the time- how could you have been?- but I wish there wasn’t so much damned footage of you.  We’re lucky that fog was there, really.  It muddled up most security camera footage, but plenty of people took pictures of you and your partners at Tokyo Big Sight.”

“That _is_ what happens when Taichi rides Greymon in the middle of a convention center.”  Despite the jab, Yamato trusted that Taichi had done whatever needed doing.  “So you’re still trying to keep the identities of the Chosen a secret?”

His father’s head popped over the top of the fridge door, and Yamato swallowed a snort.  “Of course I am!” he cried, looking miffed.  “I won’t have my boys pulled in for questioning by the government.  Your mother and I are doing everything we can to keep your identities safe.”

Yamato fought the urge to clean out his ears.  “Mom is doing this, too?”

“Yeah.”  Hiroaki closed the door, holding a beer and the plate Yamato had prepared for him.  He ripped off the cling wrap and moved to the microwave.  “I have contacts with news stations, and she has press contacts.  We’re tapping different networks and making heavy use of laws meant to protect minors.  We’ve been working with your friend, too.”  He looked away from the microwave long enough to direct a thoughtful frown at Yamato.  “Koushiro-kun has a lot of high level contacts for a ten-year-old.  Somehow, he’s been removing evidence of your friends from the internet, which I thought was impossible.”

A classmate had once said that removing a photograph from the internet was like removing piss from a swimming pool, but Yamato decided to keep that colorful description to himself.  “If anyone can do it, it’s Koushiro.  Trust me.”

“I do.  Still, I think the only thing that’s saving us is how spotty electronics were around that fog.  The next time you kids get up to your digimon stuff, save me a headache and remember that everyone’s carrying a camera in their pocket, would you?”

“I’ll take note,” Yamato drawled.  He adjusted the volume on the speaker, lowering it so conversation was more comfortable.  Then he moved to the kitchen table, sitting beside his father.  “Dad?  No offense, but you look like crap.  Thanks for watching out for us, but you have to take care of yourself.”

Hiroaki took an enormous bite of his dinner.  His eyes slid shut as he chewed, apparently enjoying the flavor.  “I have you to do that.”

Yamato rolled his eyes.  “Get serious, Dad.  Eat your dinner and sleep.  And if you say ‘yes, mom’ to me ever again, I’ll swap your toothpaste with wasabi.”

Hiroaki’s mouth snapped shut, and Yamato snorted.  “Alright, alright.  I’ll get some sleep.  Have you finished your homework?”

“It’s done.”  That was pretty much the only parental question Hiroaki asked him.  After all, Yamato took better care of himself than his father did.

A comfortable pause fell over the table, and Yamato shifted his attention to the music.  After a while, he asked, “Hey Dad?  Weren’t you in a band?”

“Yeah,” he grunted.  “I played bass.  I’m a terrible singer, though.”

“That much I know.” 

“Har har.  Why do you ask, wise ass?”

Yamato hesitated.  He wasn’t sure if he was really going to follow through on this, but…  It couldn’t hurt to ask, could it?  “Do you still have it?  Your bass.”

   “It’s in the closet in my bedroom.  Why?”

“Uh…  Well, I was thinking I might try to learn, if you don’t mind my borrowing it.”

The strain on Hiroaki’s face lightened.  “Sure!  I might have some books on learning, but I guess the internet is more helpful these days.”

“Thanks.  Can you teach me anything?”

“It’s been a while, but I should remember the basics.  I can teach you how to tune it and take care of it, anyway.”

Yamato’s instinct was to stop talking, to keep his own counsel.  But his ideas were whispers in his mind, and speaking them might help them coalesce.  And if there was anyone he could speak openly to, it was his old man. 

And so, with a casual air that likely sounded anything but, he said, “I was thinking I might join a club at school to help me learn.”

For a fraction of a second, Hiroaki’s eyes widened.  But the man who met Gabumon without fear, or even surprise, quickly rallied, assembling a casual look that demonstrated how it was done to Yamato.  “Good idea.  You might make friends who are learning instruments, too.  Maybe, once you all get some skill, you can start a band.”

 _A band_ _…_ Yamato had only just started thinking about playing bass.  The harmonica was enough for him thus far, portable, inexpensive, and pleasing without a need for other instrumentalists.  But with a band…  Would it be possible for him to make music that had an impact on others, and make friends at the same time?

“That might be cool,” he allowed.  After a brief moment of pleasure, he scowled.  “But I can’t.  I need to cook dinner, grocery shop...”

Hiroaki twitched, then placed his chopsticks on his plate with exaggerated care.  Too late, Yamato realized how much guilt he had tossed onto his exhausted father.  “Um, it’s okay,” he hedged, trying to backpedal.

Hiroaki rubbed a hand over his face, then took a long pull on his beer.  “It’s really not.”

“It’s okay!”  Yamato winced.  He hadn’t meant to sound so aggressive.  He fell silent, breathing deeply.  His fingers itched for the cool, slick feel of his harmonica.

The usual grin that Hiroaki wore when they bickered was absent.  He looked serious, tired, and suddenly older.  “You’re a kid, son.  When I was your age, I didn’t know how to boil an egg.  I tried to clean my favorite jersey with hand soap because I didn’t know how to do laundry.  But I could play the bass and write songs with my band.”

“Dad…”  Yamato’s gaze fell to the table.  He didn’t even know how he felt anymore; everything was all jumbled together, emotions shrieking like winds in a hurricane.

“Hey.  Don’t sweat it.  If you want to join a band, then I want you to join a band.  We’ll figure it out.  Okay?”

Yamato nodded, unwilling to risk speech, miserable despite his father’s promise.  There was a click of moving chopsticks, then an appreciative sound from his father.  “This is good!  Have you made this before?”

He looked up at last, hoping his normal scowl was in place.  “It’s a new recipe.”

Hiroaki grinned.  “I’ll come home on time tomorrow.  Will you teach it to me?”

“What?” Yamato leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.  “Dad, you _still_ can’t boil an egg.”

Hiroaki shrugged.  “I may be an old dog, but I can learn new tricks.”

Yamato produced a distinctly incredulous grunt, but he grinned.  “We’ll see about that.”

 **XXX**

It was getting too damned cold.

Taichi picked up his walking pace, rubbing his hands together.  Gray November days ushered in the chill of autumn’s death.  The biting cold made summer feel even further away, along with the Digital World.

In the back of his mind, Taichi always tallied that growing stretch of time.  Another day, another tick on the wall, a gouge in his skull.  Over three months had passed since he said farewell to the most beloved part of himself, the other him. 

 _I guess it_ _’s been that long since I’ve seen the Chosen together, too…_ Taichi shook his head, trying to clear out those melancholy thoughts.  He looked forward, thinking of the afternoon ahead now that his school day was over.  He had plenty of homework, but maybe he could play video games or something. 

He tried not to acknowledge how boring that sounded.  He gazed around, hoping for a distraction.  Most students belonged to clubs and were still at school, but the ones who weren’t were also heading home.  Taichi spotted a head of blond hair and grinned.

He jogged towards Yamato, and the boy turned towards the sound of his movement.  “Aw man,” Taichi said, raising a hand in greeting.  “I wanted to scare you.”

Yamato scoffed.  “Don’t be so loud, then.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Taichi cuffed Yamato on the shoulder and was relieved when the boy didn’t shake him off or flinch away.  “You heading home?”

Yamato shrugged.  “I was going to visit Sora, but she has tennis club.  I guess I’ll cook and then head to her place.”

Taichi didn’t bother hiding his surprise.  “Sora?  Have you two been hanging out?”

“Sometimes.”  Yamato probably sensed that he wanted more details, but he offered none.  Taichi fought the urge to demand them, knowing it would only give his friend satisfaction.  Anyway, he wasn’t interested in picking a fight. 

“Wanna hang out with me until she gets home?”  Taichi and Sora lived in the same building, and Yamato lived in a nearby apartment mansion, all part of Odaiba Kaihin Koen.  Taichi ran into Sora often, and they were classmates, too.  Despite being so close by, Yamato managed to make himself scarce somehow.

Those intense blue eyes scanned Taichi’s face without offering any hints of his thoughts.  “Yeah, okay.”

 _Yeesh.  Don_ _’t sound too excited._ Taichi fell into stride with Yamato, trying to ignore his friend’s gaze.

“Weren’t you a lot more tan?” Yamato asked.  “Lost some muscle tone, too.”

Taichi twitched so hard that he almost stumbled.  “Geez!  Nice to see you, too.  My tan fades when it gets cold, genius.  It’s not summer anymore.”

A tiny grin touched Yamato’s face, but somehow didn’t soften his expression.  “Sora told me you quit soccer club.  I figured you’d keep up your practice on your own, though.”

Taichi tried to sort through his feelings before responding.  His plan to avoid picking a fight with Yamato (good intentions that Yamato so often tested) was already crumbling.  But if he fussed too much, he was just easy bait.  Even knowing that, it was hard not to react to digs meant to get under his skin.

“I’ve been busy.”  Which was a bald lie, of course. 

Yamato didn’t challenge him, but the way his eyebrow rose communicated his thoughts with infuriating clarity.  “Are you keeping in touch with…”  He paused and looked over his shoulder, but the other pedestrians didn’t seem interested in their exchange.  Regardless, Taichi knew what he was asking.

“I’ve seen everyone at least once.  How about you?  How’s Takeru?”

“He’s…  Well, he’s looking forward to the get-together.”

Taichi nodded.  Some days, the thought of the upcoming party was off-putting.  Others, he wished he could warp all of the Chosen to his apartment right now.  The trouble was, he never knew where he would land on any given day.

“I was against it at first,” Yamato said.  They approached the outdoor lift to Taichi’s apartment complex, and Taichi hit the up button.  Yamato leaned against the building’s wall, staring at the gray sky.  “I just…  The thought of all of us together, without…  Them…”

Taichi slammed his freezing fingers into the pockets of his jeans.  “I know.”

Yamato nodded, as if he expected that response.  “But at the same time…  I don’t know.  It’s starting to sound kind of nice.  And I’m beginning to see that it’s good to check in on everyone.”

The lift dinged on arrival, and the boys walked inside.  Taichi almost wished that someone else would be in there, to put off this discussion.  But the elevator was empty, and the doors slid shut, blocking them off from the world.  “Takeru told you about his nightmares,” Yamato murmured.

Taichi fought the urge to tsk.  He wasn’t mad at Takeru or Yamato, but the reminder of the child’s suffering was painful.  “Yeah.  Man, I really wish all of that scary stuff hadn’t happened.  To all of us, but especially Takeru and Hikari.”

“I’ve been thinking- and this is something I’ve been talking about with Sora- that we all need coping mechanisms.  No matter how much it would help, we can’t go to psychologists.”

“They’d think we’re bonkers,” Taichi agreed.

“Maybe,” Yamato replied.  “But the ones who know about digimon could be even more dangerous.  They could report us to authorities for our involvement with digimon.”

Taichi jerked, then twitched as the elevator doors dinged and opened.  “What- are you serious?”

Yamato’s distant expression darkened to grave.  He told Taichi about his parents’ efforts to protect their identities, and about the consequences that might come if people learned the truth.  Taichi had wondered why they weren’t famous, why their efforts hadn’t been rewarded, but those were stray thoughts.  He had never really desired it.  And now, he was beginning to see the dangers.

By the time Yamato finished, the boys were seated in Taichi’s bedroom, with Taichi on the lower bunk and Yamato at the desk.  “Holy crap,” Taichi muttered.  “And Koushiro has been working on this, too?”  Yamato nodded, and Taichi frowned.  “He could have told me.  I probably can’t help, but I’d like to know.”

The way Yamato looked at him put Taichi on edge.  “When was the last time you talked to him?”

“Uh-  Well, we email sometimes, but I haven’t seen him in person outside of school for…” 

“This is what I’m saying,” Yamato sighed.  “We’re losing touch.  And, in a way, that’s alright.  We have to live our lives and adjust, right?  But the consequences of our time in the Digital World are still taking shape.  At first, I thought the Digital World would become our past, an important memory.  But now…  Now, I’m thinking that the Digital World will continue to impact us, probably in ways we didn’t anticipate.”

Taichi sat up a little straighter.  While he didn’t like the thought of being kidnapped and investigated by the government, he couldn’t help but feel a little excited.  After all this time walking further from the Digital World, was it possible that it was closer than he thought? 

“The party really is a good idea,” he murmured.  “This impacts all of us, after all…”

Yamato visibly relaxed.  “Good.  I don’t think everyone has RSVPed yet, but they’re more likely to go if you do.”

“You think?” Taichi asked, tipping his head.  “Why?”

“They follow your lead.  For some reason.”

“Har har.”  Despite his sarcastic delivery, Taichi felt a rush of pleasure.  He smiled, feeling anticipation for the first time in ages.

“How have you been doing?” he asked, with genuine interest.

Yamato’s crossed arms went slack, which Taichi read as surprise.  “I’m alright.  Sometimes, it feels lonely without Gabumon.  Sometimes, the bad memories ride me.  But I’ve been trying new things, trying to find an outlet.  I figure that all we have for help with this is ourselves, each other, and our families.”

Taichi almost blurted out how surprised he was, but somehow, he held it in.  Instead of saying something accidentally callous, he tried to phrase the thought in a friendly, joking way.  “You don’t run away and play harmonica anymore?”

He smiled when Yamato leaned forward with laughter.  “I still have the harmonica!  Leaving a bad situation and calming down is a good strategy.  I’ve seen worse from a certain someone.”

“Hah!”  Taichi grinned.  Their friendly ribbing was so familiar, so comfortable, that Taichi fell into stride, saying whatever floated across his mind.  "You know, people keep giving me a hard time for quitting soccer club.  But you've never been in a club, have you?"

Yamato's smile faded, warning Taichi that he had misstepped.  "No.  I have to go home and start dinner."

"Ah.  Right."  Taichi grinned awkwardly, then sighed and wiped off that fake expression.  "Sorry."

Yamato nodded, relaxing again.  "Actually, though...  I'm thinking of joining one.  I went to sit in on a few meetings."

"Seriously?"  Taichi debated making a lone wolf joke, but thought better of it.  He needed to space his blunders out a bit more, after all.

"Yeah.  I dug my dad's bass out of storage.  I want to learn to play, so I'm looking into instrument clubs."

"Bass guitar?" Taichi laughed.  "Why bass?  The electric guitar is cooler."

Yamato's eyes rolled in a disdainful arc.  "I'm not trying to win the Coolest Kid award, Taichi.  I like how the bass sounds."

"Guess you don't need it."  Although it sounded like an apology, the statement was honest.  Most people viewed Yamato as a cool, intimidating guy.  His good looks combined with a standoffish nature and intense eyes had that effect.  But after the Digital World, Taichi was well aware that Yamato was a walking collective of screaming emotions, and that he often struggled to control them.

 _Basically, he is cool...  Until he opens his mouth.  Which is maybe why he's such a loner._  Unfortunately, that knowledge made teasing Yamato all the more enjoyable. 

"Tch."  Yamato scowled and tipped his head away, but Taichi saw the corner of his mouth inch up.  When he secured his trademark frown, Yamato looked his way again.  "So.  When are you going to stop moping around your bedroom?"

Taichi jerked back, incensed.  "Dude, is that how you respond to compliments?  Maybe I should stick to insults."

Yamato ignored his bait, remaining nonplussed.  "Sora's worried about you.  She told me that Hikari-chan called her a few months ago, so your sister is worried, too."

"I'm _fine_ ," Taichi snapped.  "I go to school and do my stupid homework.  I’ll go to that party.  So what if I don't play soccer?  It's freezing now, anyway."

"Like that ever stopped you."  Yamato drew a long breath.  "Okay.  Maybe this is a low blow, but...  What would Agumon think if he knew you spent so much time locked up in your room?  Do you think he wants you to give up things you like because you miss him?  Hell, he's probably gathered a bunch of round objects by now and tried to teach digimon how to play soccer, just because you like it."

Taichi swallowed hard.  Sometimes, he liked to picture Agumon and wonder what he was up to.  Usually, it hurt too much.  "Maybe I'll sign up again after winter."

"You're dodging.  And you know soccer's not the point.  The _point_ is that you still haven't found your stride again.  I would have thought that everything we went through would make you stronger, not weaker."

Taichi found himself standing over Yamato, although he had no memory of moving.  "Oh, yeah?  Well, what have _you_ been doing that's so great?!"

 On the surface, Yamato seemed calm, but the twitching muscle beneath his eye gave him away.  "Carrying on.  Thinking of Gabumon, but also of what I have to do now.  Learning a new instrument, so I'll have something to show him.  When we meet again, I want him to know that I'm fine.  That I'm better now than I was before I met him."

Suddenly, Taichi felt unsteady, but he refused to show it.  Despite his best efforts, he couldn't maintain eye contact with Yamato.  "I know," he said through gritted teeth.  "I've seen all of the Chosen since then."

Taichi squared his stance, fighting for balance.  "Sora's learning new things and living more comfortably with her mom.  Koushiro- well, he's Koushiro.  He's taking on bigger projects than ever, eyes forward.  Mimi was down for a while, but she bounced back, and now she's cheering people up.  Jyou- god, don't tell him I said this- he's thinking of everyone and making plans for the future, so it will be better for humans and digimon.  Eimi didn't let all of this slow her down, even with physical therapy and her family.  Takeru has nightmares, but he's still worried about you and his mom, and he's carrying on.  And Hikari- I don't think she ever had any doubt.  She misses Tailmon, and some of what happened still scares her, but she...  Just trusts that everything will be okay, that we'll all meet again."

By the time he finished, his breathing was heavy, and Yamato's indifferent mask was gone, showing concern.  "Then, when I see them doing so well...  They're all so worried about me.  Am I really doing that bad?"   

Yamato’s face cycled through micro expressions as his mind worked.  Finally, he collapsed against the chair’s backrest, face tilted towards the ceiling.  “Damn,” he muttered.  “You’re still doing it.”

“Doing _what?!_ ”  Taichi’s volume soared.  He shut his mouth with a faint snap.  The last thing he needed was for Yuuko to investigate his shouting.  He returned to the bed with shaking legs, forcing himself to stand down.

Yamato seemed to crumple with his sigh, like a squeezed pair of bellows.  His expression was complex, but Taichi thought he read remorse, obscured by a thick veil of defensiveness.  “Carrying us.”

The fight was blown out of Taichi with the force of an explosion.  The shock wave that radiated outward left him stunned.  “W-what?”

Yamato tsked and tilted his face away from view.  “You never let us stop.  Remember when Mimi-chan wanted to grieve, but you pushed us?”

A rushing sound filled Taichi’s ears.  Yamato kept shoving him from one emotion to another, and he couldn’t keep up.  “I _told_ you I wasn’t trying to be a jerk,” he growled.

“Yeah.  You were pulling us forward.  There were a lot of times when we wanted to stop, to breathe-”

“I did, too!”  His voice was rising again, and Taichi bit back a curse.  Why the hell was Yamato needling him about what he did in the Digital World?  It was all over, now.

“I know that now.”  The subdued quality of Yamato’s voice piqued Taichi’s curiosity, and he risked a look.  Yamato’s expression was serious, maybe even… earnest?  Then he tsked, and Taichi’s hands curled into tight fists.

“Maybe I even knew then.  I thought you were being reckless, dragging us along at your pace, even if everyone couldn’t keep up.  But realistically, we had to keep moving.  The longer we stayed in one spot, the easier it was for enemies to find us.  And the only way we could come home was to keep moving.”

At this point, Taichi was confused and tired.  He stared at Yamato, feeling and looking somewhat bovine.  Yamato gave him a space to respond, but was forced to continue.  “No one asked you to lead us.   No one asked you to take responsibility for the group.  We acknowledged that you had taken that role, yeah.  But…  You just did it.  And that’s a hell of a thing to sign up for.”

Taichi blinked.  This reminded him of Eimi’s speech about how he and Koushiro carried the heaviest burdens in the Digital World, and continued to carry them now.  Of course, her delivery hadn’t made Taichi want to deck her, but that was Yamato for you.

Taichi rubbed the back of his neck as his anger dissolved again.  “You’re saying…  I’m still…”  He frowned and shook his head.  “I’m not still leading the Chosen.”

Yamato snorted.  “You’re not giving orders, but you’re still feeling responsible for us.  For what happened then, for how we’re coping now…  Look.  My parents are still cleaning up Vamdemon’s mess, yeah?  Crews are still rebuilding the Fuji TV station.  You’re still carrying that weight, that sense of duty, only now…  Now, you don’t know what to do with it.”

And finally, Taichi understood.  His eyes slid shut, and the commemorative photo filled his mind.  “You’re saying it’s not over.”

“I don’t think it ever will be.  Not really.”

Taichi passed his tongue over his dry lips.  He had no idea how that concept made him feel.  The widening maw between then and now had weighed him down, and the thought that it would never leave him, that it would forever remain active in some way, should have comforted him.

But did it?

He opened his eyes and shared an uncomfortable look with Yamato.  “There isn’t a then and now?  I don’t get it.”

Yamato exhaled hard.  “I’m not saying time doesn’t work.  I’m saying that there are ripples, things still happening as a result.  And I’m also saying…”

He cupped his face and tsked.  “Ugh, this is getting too heavy.  But…  Since we came back, I’ve been thinking about moving forward, getting over the bad stuff and looking ahead.  I thought the Digital World was firmly in the past, at least for now.”

Taichi fought to control his rising frustration.  “Yeah, I know.  That’s what everyone is doing.”  _Except me._

Yamato nodded, allowing the point.  “But I’m starting to see…  There’s no closing a door on what happened and opening it when we feel like reminiscing.  It’s still active, both the good stuff I want to remember, and the bad stuff I want to forget.  The Digital World is still touching earth.  It’s still touching us.”

Taichi shifted.  He tried not to think about Hikari’s panic attack and Takeru’s nightmares.  The concept of trauma being immortal, rushing from the past to the present and hanging over the future, was more than his mind could handle, not to mention his heart.  “Don’t freak me out,” he sputtered.

“Sorry.  I’m not trying to be a buzzkill.”  Yamato stood and pushed the desk chair in, hinting that it was time to leave.  “What I really wanted to say is that you’re not weak; I shouldn’t have said so earlier.  You’re not losing the getting-over-it game.  All we have…  Well, all we have is each other, and all we can do is…”

Yamato’s shoulders rose, and he moved towards the door, muscles tensing further with each step.  “All we can do is hope and not beat ourselves up.”

Taichi sprang to his feat, stunned, unwilling to allow Yamato’s hasty retreat.  “Yamato!  Hey!”

“I’m late to meet with Sora,” he snapped.  “I don’t want to get lectured.  Hell, I never started dinner…”

Taichi stood in the bedroom doorway, watching Yamato stomp down the hall with his hands shoved in his pockets.  The front door slammed, and Yuuko poked her head into the hall.

“What was _that_?” she asked.

After a long pause, a grin rose to his cheeks.  Taichi was nowhere near processing their conversation- he probably never would, to be honest- but relief spread from forgotten depths like helium.  He felt light, buoyant.  Sure, it sucked that the bad things would never go away, but if Yamato was right…

He wasn’t weak.  He wasn’t failing or letting anyone down.  It was time to acknowledge what he had faced and accept that it would never leave him.  And, above all, it was time to be kind to himself, and to his emotional monsoon of a friend, who had hit his limit and whooshed off to pelt someone else with his moods.

With a flippant shrug, Taichi said, “ _That_ was Yamato.” 


End file.
